


even as the world goes on its wicked way

by lua_rosa



Category: Rapunzel's Tangled Adventure (Cartoon)
Genre: 20 years after plus est en vous, Bittersweet Ending, F/F, Future Fic, Hurt/Comfort, Lesbian Cassandra (Disney: Tangled), One Shot, Post-Canon, Sun & Moon imagery, cass is a cool butch lesbian aunt in her forties. WHAT more could u want, character focused, listen i'm just having fun here, more to the sweet side, mostly cass and cassunzel, sometimes they talk normally tho, the characters sometimes talk like theyre in a jane austen novel, this was v self indulgent. enjoy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-04
Updated: 2021-01-04
Packaged: 2021-03-14 06:20:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 24,464
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28540956
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lua_rosa/pseuds/lua_rosa
Summary: They arrive in the capital in the late afternoon, with the orange light of the sunset reflecting in the waters of the pier, the noises of twilight movements in the city, the smell of salt and chimneys spitting smoke, the bumpy alleys, the lamplighters lighting the poles for when night falls. It's all so familiar (...) maybe she's twenty-two years old again and will have to wake up early tomorrow for her servitude duties. Or maybe she's nineteen, begging her father to recognize her talent for the royal guard. Maybe she’s fifteen, dreaming of meeting distant lands and rescuing princesses. Maybe she's twelve, training every day with her first and dear sword. Maybe she's nine, playing through the eastern streets of the city, looking for insects among the cobblestones.Maybe she still has Rapunzel with her.Cassandra returns to Corona after twenty years.
Relationships: Cassandra/Rapunzel (Disney: Tangled), Minor or Background Relationship(s)
Comments: 7
Kudos: 58





	even as the world goes on its wicked way

**Author's Note:**

> [for anyone who can read portuguese, [HERE](https://archiveofourown.org/works/28540530) is the original fic in PTBR, which is, in my opinion, the superior version :0]
> 
> hiii ppl ! sooo this fic is set 20 years after cass left corona (or rather, was banished as ordered by king frederick) and started traveling and living adventures. she and her father started living together, at some point, in a land veeeryyy far away from corona. UNTIL they receive an invitation...... hehehe
> 
> this is a v introspective fic that focuses on a forty-something years old cass. if that sounds like ur thing, hop in!! this is also my first fic translated to english so i hope it's decent, even though some stuff was lost in translation.
> 
> btw please do not correct me on any grammar or spelling mistakes, as i have no respect for the english language. anyways hope u guys enjoy s2
> 
>   
> _[tagged Teen and Up Audiences for cussing, alchool and brief mention of animal death]_

_Dear Cass,_

_Sorry it took me so long to answer you. I know you always assure me that it's okay, my occasional delays in sending you letters; that you understand my responsibilities for sure keep me forever busy — nevertheless, I must tell you that I can never forgive myself for the delays. A kingdom asks for time and attention to be ruled, of course, but writing a letter to my dear friend demands only an hour. Sometimes a few hours (you are so extremely far away, and, my god, how I miss you, and how I have things to tell you, so many things) but that shouldn't in any way stop me from writing to you. Never. The distance between us is enough of a nuisance._

_First of all, I'm so happy to hear about your father! Love truly does not see age._

_I smiled wide, too, reading about your most recent job. I'm sure the people of the village appreciate you and see you as a guardian, and it warms my heart to know that you've managed to adapt so well there! I remember the first letters you sent me when you first moved in ("I feel like it’ll be momentary, unfortunately, but I love the town," or something like that.) But I must admit, I miss your heroic tales of when you were traveling, with no fixed housing. Youthful ambitions may be fickle, but they are certainly romantic (I really like to imagine young Cassandra as a knight in golden armor, riding on her horse, running to save princesses. I promise I don’t feel jealous at the thought!)._

_"I know you used to know me as a responsible woman, but I did learn, Rapunzel, how to have fun in these years that have passed." Oh, and how you deserve to have fun! Just be careful not to drink too much. You know how bars like this, full of friends, can be dangerous temptations._

_Again, I apologize for the delay. And now, I'm going to have to talk about unpleasant things._

_It's just that unfortunately, my dear, these last few months have been heavy on my shoulders. As I told you in our last correspondence, my mother was very ill. The doctors couldn't identify what disease had inflicted her, but I suspect she was very, terribly shaken by my father's death. I didn't go into detail before, but my god, how fragile she was—it cut my heart, knowing that I could do nothing for her, even if I had my powers back (the Sun heals many things, but it does not heal a broken heart)._

_She died last week._

_I don't know how fast the news from Corona travels to the distant lands where you are now living, but you can surely imagine that the kingdom has entered a deep mourning that only grew with the remaining mourning for my father, who died months ago. Astra is too young to understand what is happening, but she also feels the grief of the kingdom and of her family, in the way that children deeply feel the environment around them, differently from adults. My dear, I am in mourning, too, but I am fighting. On the fourth day after my mother's death, I gave an official speech at the castle gates, and I said everything that has to be said after the death of a queen—and announced my coronation._

_I will not ramble any more about my grief; I know I don't have to. I know you are aware, more than anyone, perhaps except for Eugene, that my chest always weighs, but my smile must prevail. That is the burden of a queen._

_Technically, as you must know, I'm already a queen; I have all the powers of one, I only lack the title, and the formality of the rite that will make me one. I will be crowned alongside Eugene. (He, a king, can you believe it?) He is being, as always, so understanding. He holds me every night as I cry (on days of weakness) or harden (on days of duty.) Today, we talked about you, and I told him I do not want to be crowned without you by my side._

_Cassandra: I will be queen, and as my first act as one, I will forgive you for all the crimes committed against Corona. You could then come visit whenever you wanted, my love, and even return permanently, if you so desire. Eugene agreed to my request, and we both managed to delay the coronation for the next semester (A fair interval, given the queen's recent death. Corona usually rushes coronations, just as it rushes any celebration, but I refuse to do so.) I want you to come to watch me become a queen and gain the power to bring you home (or your first home, at least.) You and your father will be guests of honor, I will make sure of it, and I will make sure of hugging you tight when I see you; oh, how I miss you! Twenty years is far too much time to be apart from your best friend._

_I want to send you this letter as soon as possible. If you decide to come, do not go through the trouble of answering this letter, of course: come immediately! It's a long trip._

_As always, my dear, I think of you when I see the moon, and I hope you accept my invitation._

_Yours,_

_Rapunzel_

Rapunzel's letters were never stamped with the royal seal, nor were they signed with the official royal signature, as you would expect, if she were anyone else — Cassandra always opens these envelopes with a simple, orange coronian seal, and finishes reading the letters with Rapunzel's colorful parting at the end, her name signed lilac, decorated with little drawings.

Cassandra rereads this letter in particular several times (even more often, perhaps, than she usually rereads the others) and, whenever she reaches the end, she does not know what to think.

Then she opens the drawer of her desk, grabs her wooden box, and from inside it she selects one of Rapunzel's letters from one of the large piles — the first one her hands are able reach.

_My Cass,_

_I hope you're recovering. My chest hurts from thinking about you seriously injured, and it hurts me even more to think of the scar that will form soon (unless you like these scars? You would definitely look handsome with one on your face—am I being silly? Let me know if I am being silly)._

_I often wonder how you must have matured ever since I last saw you, and how your face must have been shaped. Is it more angular? Stronger? More tired? Are your eyes now decorated with wrinkles? What about your mouth? Is there something new in your dark, dark irises that I've missed on, in our eighteen years apart? What has time reserved for you, my dear, for your black curls, your thick eyebrows, your nose, the curve of your upper lip, your chin, your collarbone, your arms? Do you still have that mole on the back of your neck? And, finally, what about the scars? I'd like to see you again, so you can tell me the story of each one as I trace them like points on a map._

_It deeply frustrates me how your face escapes my memory. All I have now are your portraits—but these are so old. If we could see each other again, I would paint your face with greater care than I have ever had in any other work of mine, so that I can have you here with me as a real image and not only a distant dream—_

Cassandra takes another letter.

_Dear Cass,_

_You must forgive me for the two letters sent in sequence; it is only that I managed to finish, moments ago, this painting. As I’ve said in the previous letter, I was having trouble with putting anything on paper, but now, I write this in the silence of the night after having painted, by candlelight, this simple sketch on a piece of paper; an image which seemed to be stuck in my throat for a long time. Note the monochrome aspect of the painting: I know that using an excess of colors is usually my trademark, but this time it seemed right to use only blues. I'm so pleased! Sometimes, something simple is enough. I'm sending the painting to you in this letter (the lagoon I painted reminds me of one of our adventures, about fifteen years ago. Do you remember?)—_

And another.

_Dear Cass,_

 _I bring you the most wonderful news, my dear: the doctors are expecting the baby for about a month from now. Let me tell you; There's nothing romantic about being pregnant. My belly is swollen like a balloon, I can barely move on the bed, my stomach is too sensitive, and my_ back! _I wouldn't wish this even on my worst enemies. But, Cass—I'm so happy, that I feel like my heart could, at any moment, jump fly away. I can't wait to carry my child in my arms, and carry alongside them the love and difficulties of being a mother; I want to live everything to the fullest, and be a better mother than Gothel ever_ _was._

 _I know I've been under a lot of pressure to get pregnant, for a long time. Cass: I_ _haven't told you about it, as I sometimes refrain from telling you other unpleasant things, but, as you well know, it's true; it took me longer than most of Corona's monarchs to get pregnant (Eugene has been very patient so far). Being queen means, for the most part, having a son to inherit a throne. However, Cass, I will leave my word here, recorded: if my child grows up and wishes to abandon the throne and go elsewhere, I will let them go wherever their heart commands. And, oh, how I wish you were here, for the birth! How I wish you were here to teach my child all the things I can't teach them, things about courage, about—_

Another one—

_My dearest Cassandra,_

_It seems like it's been so long since we last saw each other! The year went by so slowly without you. I miss you so much, even though your presence still follows me around the castle – your old quarters, your favorite window, stories about knights in old books, the night on the beach._

_I bring great news, which are unfortunately accompanied by bad news. Eugene and I are getting married, Cass! For real, this time. I'm so, so happy! I feel truly prepared, I promise: Eugene is the love of my life. (You never_ _thought he was the right man for me, I know, but he’s so good to me.) I wanted, more than anything else, that you were here with me, by my side, but... the bad news: my father will not allow you to come, not even for this very special occasion. But if you wish, Cass, please come! I'll figure it out, like we always have. It's always been like this — I'll bring you to the wedding through the castle's underground tunnels, and then I can take you back out on horseback, sneaking you at night, through the beach, as we used to do before—_

She closes the box. The newborn night overflows through the window of her room, particularly blue, in contrast to the warm gold of her candle light; the crescent moon, high in the sky, whispers to Cassandra and she half listens, half thinks about other things. She thinks: _I have to take Fidella to the vet tomorrow, I have things to do, I have to visit the blacksmith next week, I have a camping trip with my father on the next full moon, I have to help the village prepare for winter; I can't travel to Corona, because I don't owe that place anything, and it owes me nothing, either._ The Moon mutters, like a melody: _Cassandra, a tiny piece of your heart has always been in Corona._

Spinning a fountain pen between her fingers, Cassandra decides that she knows exactly what she has to do. She takes a blank paper out of the drawer and starts:

_Dear Raps,_

_I'm so very sorry about your mother. My dear, I don't even know what to say. ~~She always treated me so well, when I lived in the castle~~ I wish you_ _strength. You can talk to me all you want. Please._

_~~I appreciate the invitation, but~~ _ ~~~~

_I assure you, again, that you do not have to worry about the delay of the letters. You're a princess after all—and you'll be a queen._

_I'm sorry, Raps, but_ _I ~~can’t~~_ _won’t be able to_ _make it to your coronation. You understand, don't you? I have things to do—_

"No, no— " she crumbles the paper in her hands and begins again.

_Dear Raps,_

_I miss you so much. I'm sorry I can't be there to comfort you in this difficult time. My deepest condolences for your mother – I know how incredibly difficult it must be for you, and I know you must be tired of hearing condolences. I'm sorry, i'm sorry. I wish I could hug you._

_Rapunzel, I know this may sound hypocritical, but I can't go back to Corona. I feel like a horrible, selfish person saying this, but... What will become of me if I come back? What will become of this person I am now, and the person I was, still here inside me?_

_~~You know I love you, but I don'tknow if I could ever look you in the eye again—~~_ ~~~~

__

_"Fuck...!"_ Cassandra runs her fingers through her curls, begging to herself to write _something_ , anything, so she can send to Rapunzel. Crumbles the paper, starts again:

_Rapunzel_

_My condolences for your mother. If you need anything else, I'll be here, but unfortunately, I won't be able to go to Corona in time to watch your coronation: I have a lot of things to do here. I hope you understand._

_Cassandra_

Then she sighs slowly and can't shake the feeling of being the most horrible person in the world. Cassandra imagines what it must be like, for Rapunzel: she killed Gothel at the age of eighteen, and after finally finding a family that loves her, she loses her father to the same disease that fell on her mother when she was pregnant with her. Soon after, she lost her mother, and was left with an entire kingdom on her shoulders, a responsibility she never imagined herself possessing before the day she left her tower.

And Cassandra wasn't there to comfort Rapunzel – but how could she be? She is not sure if she still knows how to do it; not sure if she still remembers how to heal, rather than hurt. She is not sure if she still remembers exactly how to wrap Rapunzel in her arms, how their bodies fit together. She is afraid of travelling to Corona in a long, three months journey, recognizing the familiar landscapes. She is afraid of having dozens of eyes burning on her back as she walks the streets of the capital, or worse. She is afraid of being greeted by Rapunzel in the castle, reaching out to her, and somehow hurting her when they embraced. Perhaps her hands would become knives when she touched her; her skin, glass.

She even a little afraid of nothing happening at all. She could not live with that; maybe it would be better if she simply unsheathed her sword.

That is why she cannot go back to Corona. But-

Longing hits Cassandra's chest now, stronger than it has ever been in years. She learned how to live with it as an animal learns how to live with vermin in its teeth; But now that she knows Rapunzel _needed_ her, how, in a million years, could she refuse to hold her in her arms? Would It be better or worse, to remain forever wondering, from time to time, how Rapunzel would look with a queen's crown on her head? Wondering how she would smile when she saw Cassandra again?

Instead of continuing to roll the possibilities around in her mind, Cassandra crumbles her attempt to write a letter and throws the paper in the trash, puts out the candlelight and lays down to sleep. The Moon whispers in her ear:

_Tomorrow, when night falls, I will be here still._

☾

"Are you sure, honey? You know we don't have to go if you don't want to."

Cassandra’s father helps her put their bags in the wagon.

"I know, Dad." It would be a long journey: Corona is far away, and they only have Fidella, and not any other horse, to take with them. They would have to arrange frequent stops, and a route that would allow them to sleep in a city or village as much as it is possible, and avoid bandits; after all, her father is no longer as young as he used to be. "I— I want to go. I really do."

Her father sighs. "Just making sure."

"But... _You_ don't have to go, either, Dad. I know you didn't retire to go back there."

"Nonsense. Anywhere you need me, I will follow." He pauses, worried, his forehead frowning like it usually does, his face marked by age. And he looks at her. "Unless— you don’t want me to go…?"

"N-no! No! Of course not, of course I want you to come." Cassandra puts the last box of groceries in the wagon and closes the door. "It's just... Well, I'm just— _making sure._ "

The two of them smile, something mutual passing between them. "It seems to me, honey, that you still have doubts."

“ _Argh._ I thought I'd have _overcome_ doubts, already."

"You can't escape them. Believe me— it gets worse with age."

"Is _there_ anything that doesn't get worse with age?"

He stops to think. "You got me there." Then, he sits down to catch his breath, grunting with the effort of bending his back, and sniffs once. _Age was good with him, despite everything,_ Cassandra thinks; he looks younger, happier, in a way, in his mid-60s than he was at forty. Or maybe it's less about the age and more about the circumstances: no royal guard to care for, no daughter running around, getting into trouble— the thought hurts Cassandra a little, but it also makes her smile. It's easy now to live with her father, both knowing what the other carries. "But you have nothing to complain about, Cassandra... By your age, I'd lost most of my hair. _Hah—_ Your curls are as beautiful as they always have been."

"Do you miss combing my hair?"

"A little bit..., but, _oh,_ the knots! Poor thing, how you suffered."

Cassandra smiles. "...Have you said goodbye to Samuel?"

"Yes. He uh, packed us lunch for the travel."

"He’s such a sweetheart. I talked to him earlier and I already said goodbye to him; he hugged me so tight it almost broke my ribs... how can an old man like him have so much _strength_?!"

" _Hahaha!_ That's him alright. I know you don't always like hugs—"

"Well, I don't care when he's the one who squeezes me."

"Oh— I’m glad. He sent you a kiss."

Her father always gets shy, with a broad smile on his face, when he talks about his betrothed, and Cassandra thinks this bright life suits him.

☾

Three days before they reach the Dark Kingdom, Cassandra already knows they are close, by the way the Moon vibrates in her ears at night, like silver coins falling and tinkling on the ground. Despite traveling a long distance away from the capital of the fallen kingdom, the black rocks are unmistakable, and after only a month's journey Cassandra is forced to spend all her time lying on the mattress in the wagon while her father guides Fidellia for them.

It gets worse at the closest point to the center of the kingdom — Cassandra can barely hear anything but the Moon, her ears muffled, her mind distant. She noticed only half the thing that happen, like a drunk. Only when they stop to set a campfire that her father rests his hand on Cassandra's forehead, and discovers that she is hot with fever. _We should have taken another path,_ she hears her father say, and then, _I'm sorry, my love,_ but Cassandra isn't sure if the one who said that was her father or the moon, or if it was just her imagination.

"Dad, I'm fine," she manages to say, "Let's keep going... I want to get out of here… as soon as we can."

So it takes them five days to cross the kingdom, without stops. Cassandra spends most of her time lying down, and is secretly thankful for not being conscious enough to face her father and remember everything that happened in that place; she just feels calloused and affectionate hands on her face, occasionally, checking for her temperature, or offering food, or covering her with a sheet. She turns to one side, turns to the other, sweating, and with the fever she almost forgets the remaining guilt on her chest. On a cloudy night, she hears rain on the roof of the wagon and her fever lowers, for a bit—she and her father even talk briefly as he is driving the wagon, his voice full of concern, and the Moon sitting silently behind the clouds. On the worst night, when her face boiled like a kettle, Cassandra is so sure that she sees the sun rise through the window of the wagon, in a beautiful, multicolored sky, and golden lights—when she crawls to look, however, it's still night, and the Moon begins to sing a song.

When the fever finally passes, they find a stream to drink water and bathe. Cassandra cleanses her naked body; puts her fingers over her heart, where the moonstone used to be, and where now lays only a flower-shaped scar, the size of a closed fist. She then sinks her head underwater as if she could also clean her mind. She contemplates; _I thought it would never get this bad again._

Under the running water, Cassandra tells herself the story of the creation of the world she once heard on one of her trips to distant, faraway places.

☾

_When Existence was still young, the Sun and Moon danced together in the Sky. From their intimate dance, Earth was born, raw and full of promise. From the brightness of the Sun, Earth inherited its flora and fauna, and the triumph that was the humans; from the silence of the Moon, Earth inherited the secrets of its vast ocean and the depths of its rocky and eternal soil._

_Said the Sun, to the Moon: my dear, why did you create these shadows on Earth, these sharp stones like teeth, these treacherous waters?_

_Said the Moon, to the sun: beloved, can't you see beauty and life in this darkness of mine?_

_Said the Sun, to the Moon: honey, I will not be able to nourish, on our Earth, these things which will kill what I have created._

_Said the Moon, to the Sun: my most darling, what you do not realize is that what will kill your creation is humanity itself._

_The Sun, fearing the thorns of the Moon, and the Moon, resenting the incomprehension of the Sun, then decided to divide the Earth: the day would be the ruling of the Sun, so men can see clearly all they possess; and the night would be the ruling of the Moon, so she can hide all her secrets from men and sing her melancholic melody._

_Before they separated, Sun and Moon danced one last time, and said goodbye. The sun wept, and one of her tears, so painful it was, shone and crossed the Sky, falling into the soil of the Earth, from which a beautiful flower bloomed. The Moon wept, and her tears were so heavy they crossed the Sky, and when they fell on Earth, they crystallized into an opal, iridescent as the grief of a lover._

_Now the sun and moon dance forever apart around their beloved creation, and they were never able to touch the other again. It is said that if they ever met again, the Earth would end._

_The gifts that their sorrows have left still shine on Earth; the sun-drop flower, to heal the flesh, and the moonstone, to avenge the spirit—and, like the Sun and the Moon, the flower and the opal yearn eternally for each other._

☾

"It's going to take some time for us to get to Vardaros," Cassandra says as she and her father inspect the map at their new camp. Then she gets up, looking for her bow and arrows: "I'll see if I can find something to hunt in the woods, really quickly, since our food is running out. Are you going to be right here?"

Her father casts her a look that seems to say; _Are_ you _going to be_ _okay?_ A week after they passed the Dark Kingdom, her father still writhes in worry.

"I'm going to be fine, Dad. It was— it was— _that place."_

"I know, honey." They're both still not used to talk about these things, even after so many years; despite it, Cassandra realizes that her father has many unspoken things stuck in his throat. She _knows:_ she's probably mirroring his expression on the own face. Still, he beckons her closer and squeezes her shoulder tightly, smiles in that way he does, and Cassandra smiles back, affable and familiar, "Come back soon."

Walking alone through the forest, Cassandra misses Owl; a little his predator eyes, and more his company. If he were still there, she would talk to him; now, there is no one to tell her thoughts to (beyond, perhaps, the Moon, on the brightest nights).

She encounters a hare at sunset; its hind legs spasm for a few seconds even after the arrow pierces its eye and crosses through its fragile little skull.

☾

It's an inexplicable thing, the human memory, and how you seem to forget so many things until the moment you see them again. Guiding Fidella through a road, Cassandra sees a small river in a clearing through the forest, with a large trunk going from one edge to another, like a bridge. She recalls, on the back of her mind, about the day she and Rapunzel crossed that same trunk, barefoot, looking for fruit trees se they could bring their fruits back to the carriage.

Traveling now through Corona territory — a relatively small but kingdom, but one that was, for a long time, Cassandra’s entire life — she remembers when she traveled with Rapunzel to the Dark Kingdom, and how it felt to leave Corona for the first time. _Oh, how the world is big,_ she remembers having thought, _and so unlike the coasts of Corona, its yellow summers and its cruel winters, its salty smell._ Venturing into the continent she remembers missing the sea, but also remembers having fallen in love with everything else.

The real pleasure of traveling she found a bit later, when she became a pilgrim, and the _journey_ was something greater than Rapunzel, and greater than duty; when it was the wonder of discovery, and the whole world was full of countless possibilities, all of them just Cassandra’s and no one else’s. It was there, Cassandra thinks, that she learned to take her beautiful selfishness (a lesson the Moon taught her) and turn it into something new: everything she explored in that world was also something she was exploring within herself, and those little pieces of the world became little pieces of her.

But she never again traversed the same way she had, before, on the journey with Rapunzel. She never returned to the Dark Kingdom. When she left Corona alone, only she and Owl and Fidella, Cassandra followed the continent up the coast, not yet completely ready to abandon the ocean. Then she went east, until she left Corona and all that she saw after were lands that were completely new to her eyes; oh, how marvelous that was. Even if she sometimes felt lonely, in those twelve years she spent on the road, she does not regret it, and this Cassandra can say with the satisfaction of someone who has regretted too much in life.

Now she sees so many landscapes she had seen before, on her journey to the Dark Kingdom—many of the same towns and villages, mountains, rivers, lakes, and precipices. Days ago, when she and her father were guiding the wagon down the road and you could see the dead carcass of The Great in the distance, Cassandra's right arm seemed to burn. She no longer forces herself _not_ to think about these times, but it is still a little painful to remember, like the sensitive pink skin of a newly closed wound.

Finally, in Corona, after just over three months of travel, Cassandra's heart writhes a little with the familiarity of it all. Of everything, everything — the strong accent in the merchants' mouths; the birds singing just as they sang in her vague childhood memories; the green and yellow and brown vegetation calling her home. The distant smell of the sea.

☾

The first thing Cassandra notices as they pass through Old Corona is how much the village has grown; the water canals are the second thing. Despite never having visited the village so often, Cassandra notices the amount of new and young faces, the increase of farmers, children playing on the streets (now largely paved with cobblestones) and the silos and windmills that seem to have multiplied near the plantations.

"They really improved this place, huh," her father comments next to her, "is Quirin still the leader here, do you think?"

"Good question... I was actually thinking of saying hi to his son..."

They ask to a group of children playing about Quirin and Varian.

"Mister Quirin? He's around," says one little girl.

"Where?"

The girl shrugs.

"What about Varian?"

"Oh, Uncle Varian must be out there, doing crazy stuff as always," says a little boy.

"Is he in his lab?"

The boy shrugs.

"... Okay... Uh, thank you," Cassandra gives a coronian silver coin to each child before continuing walking.

"I remember when you were that little...," her father pokes his gray beard, reflective. Cassandra, on the other hand, does not remember much of her childhood beyond those things which she unfortunately would love to forget. _God,_ she’s old.

"Getting emotional, Dad?"

"Maybe a little."

They park the wagon outside the village lab. Cassandra knocks on the door.

They hear an explosion on the inside, followed by a male voice.

_"I’m coming! Shit—"_

Cassandra and her father exchange glances, and he says, "I hope that isn't Varian... since when does he swear...?"

The person who opens the door is a man in his early thirties, with black and long hair in a ponytail, and an equally black beard, apron, goggles hanging from the neck... " _So sorry_ about the noise, god... it's a mess back ther—" The man’s eyes widen as he recognizes Cassandra, probably in the same way Cassandra's eyes do when she recognizes him, too.

_"Cass?!"_

Cassandra does not know why, exactly, but she almost expected a 15-year-old boy to open the door. And she can't believe the size of that kid, and the thickness of his voice. "Wait a minute— _who_ is this man, and _what_ have you done with Varian?!"

_"Cass—!"_ The boy— the _man_ runs to her and wraps her in a tight embrace. "Cas _s_ , and-and _Captain_ too?! ( _I'm retired, boy_ , says Cassandra's father.) _Oh my god,_ fuck, wow, what an _amazing_ surprise! Wow, I'm sooo sorry, I'm all dirty— it's just that I was testing this thing that— _anyway,_ wow, if I'd known you guys were coming, I would have tidied things up—!"

"Varian, relax...!" Cassandra holds him by the arms, so he doesn't start wondering around. He's _tall,_ probably taller than Eugene, and strong in such a way that Cassandra probably wouldn't recognize if she encountered him on the street. "Been working out, huh, kid? Look at those muscles!"

_"Oh— yeah,_ right?" Varian laughs, embarrassed, and flexes one of his arms. "But they're not as good as yours, of course!"

"Of _course,_ " laughs Cassandra.

Cass' father hugs Varian, too. "Are you going to invite us in or not, kid?"

"O-oh _yeah,_ of course, please, make yourselves comfortable— don't mind the mess, please— I'm working on some things that are kind of... _explosive,_ so, you know how it is, right—"

The lab is a mess, but then again, when was it _not_ a mess? Cassandra cannot help but smile. Perhaps nothing has changed much in Corona, in her absence, and the thought brings her an embarrassing relief.

Cassandra speaks of the first memory of Varian that comes to mind. "How's uh... _Ruddiger...?_ Is the little dude still out there?"

"Ruddy! Yes! He's reeeally old, poor boy, he's always lying all day on the lab’s floor— he's not as energetic as he used to be, right. But he’s around, alive and strong! …What about Owl?"

"Oh...!" Cassandra is surprised that Varian still remembers Owl. "...He died a few years ago."

Varian seems genuinely sad. He has always been a very empathetic boy, either way. Something in his eyes seems to say that he and Cassandra share the same feeling of, _not everything is the same, even though I expected it to be._ " _Oh..._ Wow, I'm really sorry, Cass."

"Yeah… Me too. But it's okay."

She really misses Owl.

Varian take them to a small kitchen next to the main laboratory. The alchemist cleans some open packages on the wooden kitchen table and drags a chair that was next to the cupboard to the table, rushing to get two seats for the visitors. "You can sit down, guys— if you _want_ to, haha.... Again, sorry about the mess, I don't usually get many visitors—oh, besides my father, that is— and the kids, but I don't let them into the lab— too dangerous, and everything—"

Cassandra and her father sit down, and he makes a gesture with his hand, asking Varian not to apologize. "No problem, kid. So, is your dad still taking care of things around here?"

"Yes, that's right, Capit— _uh,_ I mean, sir, uh—

"Please, kid, just Elias is fine."

"Mr. Elias—! Yes, my _father— uh,_ do you guys take something to drink, or...?"

“It's all right, Varian. Keep going."

"Right... uh... My dad's in the center of the village right now, helping people fix the decorations for the coronation and stuff. _Oooh,_ is _that_ what you came for? The coronation?"

"Yeah," says Cassandra, "Rapunzel— since she's going to be queen now, she thinks it would be... that it wouldn’t be a problem if I— well... you know."

Varian nodded; he _knows,_ probably better than anyone. "Right... Eugene came to visit me a few days ago, and he said Rapunzel would be glad to receive me in Corona for the coronation, but— you know, I know it's been a long time, but I still am—kind of, _you know,_ about going to the capital... Every time I go, I get nervous, I don't know, so I'd rather stay here. To help my father, too, right? So— what I'm trying to say is— I-I understand, yeah."

How strange, talking about these things with someone that’s been there to see it after all these years. All this time, all Cassandra had was her father and Rapunzel's letters (and yet they didn't always write about everything; it's much easier to avoid putting complicated things on paper and write about simple things). Probably thinking about something similar, Varian lowers his head, and a brief silence falls upon them, until Cassandra's father gets up and breaks it:

"I want to have a word with Quirin, so if you'll excuse me, Varian. I'm sure you and Cass have a lot of catching up to do." He puts his hand on Cassandra's shoulder before leaving.

"Do you need me to accompany you to the door, Mr. Elias?"

"It’s fine, Varian. Thank you."

When left alone, Varian takes Cassandra back to his lab to show her what he has been working on: it was, as far as Cassandra understood, a car with mechanisms that makes it move around alone, with no animal pulling it.

"...And basically, at first, I had thought of a _steam-powered_ car _,_ right, I even used some _reeeeally_ old notes of my hot water project— they were a _mess,_ by the way, wow, what did sixteen-year-old little Varian was even _thinking,_ god— anyway, so I did some tests and, uh— my idea is to use these cars to transport our crops faster, right?"

"Right.”

"... But I think a steam-powered car might not be powerful enough— so I'm trying to use coal—and I _think_ it might work! If you look at those equations, there..." Varian poins to a blackboard full of chalk-marked numbers which Cassandra would not be able understand even if she wanted to. It must have shown in her face, because soon after, Varian continued: "... _Uh,_ f-forget it, you don't have to— but, anyway, I'm testing some combinations to manufacture coal using _alchemy_ , so we can have enough reserves!"

"Sounds pretty smart, kid. And complicated."

 _"Right?!_ But I'm almost getting close to the solution... And _—_ I'm having to build a lot of mechanisms and mess with heavy material, it’s, you know, something I've been messing with a lot in the last few years— so, you know, that’s why the muscles, haha, a lot of screws to tighten— and because of the coal, I've been blowing up the lab a lot, but don't worry, because I've been more cautious lately, there's no danger— _uh,_ most of the time, anyway."

They end up leaning against the lab window, while Varian points out the changes he has made in the village, including hot water and canals.

"All this is so cool, Varian...! I'm glad you're so involved in the development of Old Corona. Is your father, uh, supportive of it?"

"Yes! My dad is a lot cooler with my crazy experimenting than when I was a kid, haha. But, you know, he's getting old too— he needs help in the village. I'm certainly not the best person to be his successor, but now, whenever he needs help with something, he asks, you know? And I have a lot of ideas for Old Corona. For a long time, we were not what we used to be, but now, slowly, we’re rebuilding."

"Yeah, I can see it." _This boy has really grown,_ Cassandra thinks, but she’s happy that, in a way, he remains the same.

"Oh, Cass, I was so excited to show you everything I didn't even ask about _you._ I heard you've been travelling for a while—wow, I can't even imagine everything you've _seen...!"_

She saw so much, yes, but it's been so many years, and everything she's lived seems so far away from Corona, she barely knows where to start. She hardly knows, too, what would interest Varian; then she tries to tell him about what she has seen of foreign technology and medicine, though she doesn't know much about that. Varian seems fascinated by the slightest descriptions Cassandra offers, and from there he goes on to create his own theories— so, for Cassandra, that is enough. She liked to talk to Varian when he was young, the way you like to talk to a very excited child. Today, she discovers that she likes to talk to adult Varian because he is a person who seems to hear you, but also does much of the work of _talking,_ which she thinks is perfect. She likes to be heard, and she likes _not_ to have to talk, sometimes.

"By the way; before I forget—" Cassandra takes out a lilac stone necklace out of her pants pocket, which she brought on the trip specially to show to Varian and puts it in his hands. "I still have the necklace you gave me! It's not really my style, but I always carry it in my pocket, for good luck..."

"Aww, Cass! You actually kept it...! I will never forget discovering the good old Cassandrium... Haha, remember the science fair? Shit, it looks like it was an _eternity_ ago...!"

"Of course I kept it, kid. And, yeah, so much of that time— seems like it was— an eternity ago."

The alchemist spins the crystals of the necklace between his fingers, looking suddenly introspective. He smiles a little, and now Cassandra really, actuallyy notices how he grew up: the features of a man, the marks of what's left of teenage acne, the first white strands of hair between his ponytail, the mark of concentration — or worry — between his eyebrows.

"You know, Cass... I-I admired you so much when I was a kid. I don't know if I've ever told you... or if you've noticed— but I've always been a little out of place here in Old Corona; there's never been so many kids my age around here, and my dad— he wasn't always very _present_ , you know _—_ it wasn't exactly his fault, but... my mother's death, and the responsibility of the village, and all that weight he carried because of his past— you know? And he's always been a bit severe... But, wow, I used to _look_ at you, and you were always so brave, and— so sure of everything, you know? I know that— that maybe— that I had an idea of you that maybe wasn't so accurate; I was fourteen, and when you're at that age you tend to idolize the adults you look up to... but you've _always_ been amazing, Cass... I used to see you draw your sword and be so _prepared_ and— wearing men's clothes— I'm sorry if I'm being silly—"

Cassandra's smiling a little. _Wow. “_ Not at all, kid. Keep going"

"... yeah, so, you know. I just… wanted to say this, really. And, I'm going to tell you something, and I know it's going _to sound really_ bad, but believe me, it's not...! When I did all that mess, you know— I wanted to be brave, a little bit like you."

"That… _does_ sound bad _,"_ but there’s a bit of humor in Cassandra's voice.

" _Haha,_ I know... I'm sorry, but you know what I mean… And— everything I did, it was really bad, of course, but— the more I grow up in Old Corona, the more I see that a fourteen-year-old boy without his father to help him would have nothing else to do-- I mean, there was nothing else I could have done, you know?"

Cassandra _knows,_ a little.

"Cass, Frederick never helped us as much as he could have helped. Even after what happened, Old Corona was only second thought— we had so many bad years after that. Fifteen years ago Corona lived through its _worst_ winter in fifty years. The king did _nothing_ to help us, and we, like many other villages in the vicinity, lost entire harvests. In the year of the plague—I don't know if it got to where you were at the time, but it was really bad in corona. Frederick closed the doors of the capital and stopped sending us aid when things got too bad. We've had to get by on our own in the last few years, and we're where we are thanks to the _community— not_ the Corona monarchy."

He sighs deeply, and then looks directly into Cassandra's eyes, squeezing the necklace tightly in his hands. "That's why I think... maybe at the time, I would have done things differently. I regret certain choices, but I don't blame him anymore. I don’t blame fourteen-year-old Varian anymore, Cass."

The first thing Cassandra thinks about is; _no one should ever have blamed fourteen-year-old Varian,_ and the second thing is; _But I blame twenty-two-year-old Cassandra, and I will blame her forever._

Cassandra does not know exactly what to do—if she should hug him or keep away (she's never been very good with these things), so she puts her hand on Varian's shoulder and squeezes like her father always does. "Varian, thank you for telling me these things; I think it's amazing what you're doing in Old Corona. You've always been a brilliant boy. And you're right-- you _shouldn't_ blame yourself. But... i don't know if I'm a very good role model to follow. I'm glad you got good things out of me back then."

 _"No,_ Cass! You're a great role model. I don't know exactly what happened between you and Rapunzel— p-please interrupt me if you don't want to talk about it, but— I think it's important, isn't it, to know what you want? I was a stupid kid— and maybe you were just a stupid young adult, but— but we fought for what we wanted, and when we realized we made mistakes we got up and tried again— How many people like us can say the same thing?"

And to think it was only yesterday that Cassandra saw Varian and he was fifteen. But... what Cassandra did wasn't the same thing Varian did. What Cassandra did came from thorniest and ugliest places in her heart, and she would give anything to go back in time and rip it out of the chest with her bare hands, kiss it and take care of it as it should have been, then put it back in place, gently (when no one was delicate with young Cassandra, maybe she needed to be delicate with herself).

But she could never go back in time, so she keeps trying to do that in the present and settles for the distant thought of _maybe if I were, before, the person I am today, I could have left without shedding any blood; maybe if I were, today, the person I was before, I would have the courage to finally do something with the eternal melancholy on my chest, instead of forever running away from it._

 _Maybe_ going back to Corona was the first step. Maybe.

Varian's words make her feel understood; not completely, but more understood than with anyone else in the world. She's happy to know that they both managed to build the life they wanted, even if they still hurt a little. But—

She still hears the Moon speak sometimes, and she says; _Oh, how I miss the Sun._

☾

They arrive in the capital in the late afternoon, with the orange light of the sunset reflecting in the waters of the pier, the noises of twilight movements in the city, the smell of salt and chimneys spitting smoke, the bumpy alleys, the lamplighters lighting the poles for when night falls. It's all so familiar that for every minute Cassandra has the feeling that her life in Corona was a distant dream, there's another minute when she feels like nothing has changed, and maybe she's twenty-two years old again and will have to wake up early tomorrow for her servitude duties. Or maybe she's nineteen, begging her father to recognize her talent for the royal guard. Maybe she’s fifteen, dreaming of meeting distant lands and rescuing princesses. Maybe she's twelve, training every day with her first and dear sword. Maybe she's nine, playing through the eastern streets of the city, looking for insects among the cobblestones.

Maybe she still has Rapunzel with her.

" _You alright, honey?"_ she hears her father's muffled voice from inside the wagon.

She sighs deeply, and says, "Yeah."

Cassandra guides Fidella with her hood over her face, and her father does not leave the wagon, fearing that if they recognized him, they would also recognize his daughter. Some curious glances follow the wagon that enters through castle’s gate, but no one bothers them — Cassandra is surprised at how quickly they manage to get in and assumes that Rapunzel must have let the gatekeepers know of their arrival. (Neither she nor her father recognize the guards they encounter, which probably means that many new guards must have been admitted in recent years.)

Her stomach whirls around itself when she and her father are guided through the corridors of the castle by a servant; corridors that Cassandra still remembers as the palm of her hand. "You must forgive Your Highness—she is very busy with the preparations for the coronation, and asked that any guest of honor be received and be brought to her."

Cassandra meets some known people along the way; her former servant colleagues seem _surprisingly_ happy to see her again, although they can only greet each other briefly (the corridors are chaotic because of the coronation). One of them even compliments her hair.

Some other faces are missing, however, and many others Cassandra does not recognize. Cassandra wonders what must have happened to Old Lady Crowley—no one _ever_ knew exactly how old she was, so she hopes she hasn't kicked the bucket. Maybe she's immortal, who knows? That certainly seems to be the case. So— Cassandra hopes she's enjoying her retirement.

They pass through the corridor of royal paintings and Cassandra's stomach _falls_ as she lands her gaze on Rapunzel's portrait, nineteen years old and golden hair, just as Cassandra remembers her.

Finally outside the throne room, Cassandra hears indistinct, muffled voices on the other side. The servant opens the heavy door and—

Rapunzel is _not_ sitting on the throne (isn't that what to expect, when you meet the future queen in the throne room?), instead she is sitting on one of the steps under the throne as if sitting on the grass on a picnic; her feet bare, the length of her dress open around itself and resting on the steps.

Far away, she looks almost the same. Time seems to stop.

A familiar remorse writhes in Cassandra's stomach (lighter than it used to be, however; distant and faded, as if tired of existing). All other things, too: a millennial longing of the Moon for the Sun; a sweet memory, and a bitter one; a love pruned at its trunk, leaving roots; an old resentment (all of those things in her stomach).

Eugene is sitting next to her, and other people also walk around the room, tidying things up and preparing everything, but Cassandra's gaze falls on Rapunzel as if there were a spotlight on her; as if she were the sun, the rest of things vague and blurry.

Rapunzel notices the door open, lifts her gaze at it. Here is what Cassandra sees, one of the other hundreds of scenarios she imagined in her head, all these years, about how they would meet again: Rapunzel gets up, walks slowly at first, as if still trying to recognize her (a part of Cassandra honestly feared that perhaps Rapunzel wouldn't even go to meet her at all). _"Cass!"_ she exclaims halfway, runs up to her and soon she wraps Cassandra in her arms, tight, oh so tight; a hug the same as the others she kept in her memory. Cassandra spins her in the air; cannot help the euphoria.

They seem embrace forever. When they break apart, it does not seem to have last long enough. Rapunzel looks at her and Cassandra looks at Rapunzel, one digesting the other's face, and _god_ , that was _Rapunzel_ ; there, in the flesh and bone, in her forties; she was real, real, so real, and not just a thought in Cassandra's head — a million feelings seem to hit her chest at the same time, but the loudest and most insistent one is _look_ _at this woman and see; see how real she is despite the constant passage of time._

Cassandra does not know what to do with her hands; Rapunzel does not seem to know either. One of Cassandra's hands scratches the back of her neck, and the gesture is juvenile, but the both of them are _old,_ and different. It's only then that the rest of the room comes back into existence, and Cassandra suddenly becomes uncomfortably _aware_ of how many people around her are looking at her. Despite this, Cassandra cannot seem to stop smiling.

"Hi, Raps."

"Cass… I like the hair."

"Yeah, it— looks good, doesn’t it? It doesn’t— tickle the back of my neck anymore."

☾

Cassandra's father leaves her to meet his old men from the time of the guard, certainly homesick and full of things to catch up on. Rapunzel asks the servants in the room to withdraw for the day, and takes Cassandra to Eugene, near the throne. Lance is there, also, and they both smile when they see Cassandra —Lance is, of course, the first to hug her, with great enthusiasm. Cassandra is surprised how Lance still _looks young,_ and pretty much the same, apart from his longer beard, in the process of whitening. On the other hand, the change that age brought to Eugene is clearly stamped on man: wrinkles on his face, deeper eyes and, the most striking—

"Please do _not_ comment on the hair," Eugene says between smiles as he hugs Cassandra.

"Or rather, the _lack_ of it, am I right, Fitzherbert," Cassandra responds and feels so relieved with the ease with which she can slide back into the old bickering with the prince; she pats him twice in the back before they split up (and, in response, he mutters an _ow)._

"It's a sensitive topic for him, Cass," Lance puts his hand on his friend's shoulder, "he still thinks he _has_ hair, you know, and the doctor said it's best not to contradict him..."

"I _have_ hair, Lance! It's not just because its _falling_ a little that—"

Cassandra chuckles. "A _little?"_

"Oh, _Cassandra..._ how I _missed_ you _,_ " Eugene replies, with playful sarcasm. For a second, it's like nothing's changed.

"Cass," Rapunzel puts her hand on her shoulder and Cassandra almost jumps with the touch, "you must be _starving_ after the long journey. I told Edgar to move things around in the kitchen and start preparing dinner for our guests, why don't we all go to the dinning table, and you two can finish this friendly _chat_ over there?"

"No— no need to worry, Raps, I don't want to bother you. I was thinking of having dinner in the tavern my father and I are staying in—"

“ _Tavern?_ No way, Cass! You're my guest of honor! Do you _think_ I'd let you sleep anywhere other than the palace?!"

"Yeah, Cass, please, we are not _monsters_ ," agrees Eugene.

"Oh, I- I really don't want to bother— I just wanted to stop by and say _hi_ before the coronation…"

"Cass, don't be _silly,_ " and now Rapunzel holds Cassandra’s hand in hers, "we have enough room for you here. It won't be any bother at all— your room is already clean. _And_ your father's room. Please stay."

"It is a _big_ castle," says Lance.

"I—" Cassandra did consider that Rapunzel would possibly ask her to stay in the palace, but— she was not sure she could. However, she's already there, isn‘t she, and Rapunzel is holding her hand, and looking at her, and she _cannot_ believe she's seeing Rapunzel again after twenty _years_ —"...Okay, okay. I’ll stay.”

Rapunzel smiles— just as before; a relic of the past in a new and changed face.

☾

Even before, when she was Rapunzel's lady-in-waiting, Cassandra never ate much with her at the dining table. Occasionally, Rapunzel insisted, and the king granted; but, in general, it is not the custom. Now Cassandra realizes that dining with Rapunzel's guests means a vast table full of nobles, royalty, and friends of the crown all over, speaking and whispering to each other; many of them certainly know Cassandra, or at least have heard of her _fall to_ _villainy_ twenty years ago.

Still, she sits right next to Rapunzel (she insisted), the princess-and-future queen at one end of the table and her husband at the other. On the other side of Cassandra, two chairs away, her father also seems a little dislocated (perhaps that is more because of his nature than anything else), and twenty years is certainly enough time to forget many customs of coronian royalty. Cassandra pokes her food with a fork, silently wondering if that _was really_ the right fork to use; keeps her head down and prays no one to talk to her _or_ _of_ her; she pays half attention to the fragmented conversations of the table, and half an attention on Rapunzel.

Rapunzel— she certainly no longer needs Cassandra to correct her posture or censor her honesty near the nobility; she deals with all the people at the table with an elegance she did not possess before, combined with her natural ability to always seem interested in what the other people are saying. _Oh, Madame Quinn, how's your nephew with his provinces? Lord Doyle, your new mustache is lovely._ Cassandra wonders if in all these years she learned something more than just flattering nobles; then realizes that she is being unfair: she knows that the life of monarchy is almost entirely made up of appearances, and that if there is anyone in the world who would know how to use her queen powers for good behind all those superficialities, it would be Rapunzel.

Her father exchanges banal conversations with the man next to Cassandra who she vaguely recognizes as some general. In the middle of it, he stretches his neck behind the general, takes a look at Cassandra and asks, too far away to have a more complex conversation; "Is everything all right?"

"Yeah," she replies, "I'm just kind of... I don't know."

"If you want, honey, you can excuse yourself."

"I know, but— it's okay." She wants to be there for Rapunzel, even though she does not seem to be very willing to talk to Cassandra (she seems to be doing her best to talk to everyone at the table but her).

As if she were reading her mind, Rapunzel finally takes her attention off the table and disguises a glance at Cassandra; for a second, it looks like she wants to say something, but falters and remains in silence. Cassandra does not know how to read this older Rapunzel, keeping things for herself. Instead of saying anything, Rapunzel reaches for Cassandra's hand under the table, and weaves her fingers between hers.

She would never have imagined, before, that she and Rapunzel would have so much between them; things that Rapunzel sees, too, and not just Cassandra, as it was in the beginning, and things that cannot be solved with raw and violent solutions. As they sit hand in hand, hidden from the looks of other people at the dinner table, Cassandra realizes that she no longer knows what Rapunzel wants from her, the way she knew it in the past; she does not even know what _she_ herself wants from this whole thing, why she traveled to Corona—maybe she wanted some sort of resolution, maybe she wanted to honor her friendship with Rapunzel and support her. Maybe she just missed her.

_"Hi,"_ Rapunzel speaks softly — not in a whisper, just in a delicate, private voice; as an inside joke, or a secret. That alone almost kills Cassandra.

_"Hi,_ " Cassandra responds.

"So, _Cassandra,_ right?" she freezes upon hearing her name in the mouth of a Koto noblewoman, speaking loudly, cheeks flushed with wine. "We heard you were _a pilgrim for a_ while after you ran away from Corona, huh? So many stories you must have ..."

Half the eyes on the table turned to her. Cassandra lets go of Rapunzel’s hand.

_God,_ she does not have time for this _._ If she had known there'd be so many people having dinner, she wouldn't have accepted the invitation. She sees, from the corner of her eye, her father clenching his fists. "... I didn't _run awa_ y from Corona. And yes, I traveled—for about twelve years."

"You were _wanted_ by Corona, dear," says another nobleman from Koto.

"Yes, surely you _had to_ run away?"

_I also "had" to punch you in the face,_ Cassandra plans to say after she managed to do exactly that. Oh if she were younger, maybe... "I-I was _exiled from_ Corona, yes, but— not—"

Rapunzel rises from her chair abruptly and raises her voice. "And _now she_ is being welcomed back. Be _the queen_ of Corona. If anyone at this table has any objections, please, I cordially ask you to leave."

A silence falls on the table; no one leaves.

As the people at the table go back to talking, they abandon the topic _Cassandra,_ and she would like to be anywhere else but there: where she cannot defend herself, for fear of tarnishing Rapunzel's reputation (more than it is already tarnished, for forgiving an exile from the kingdom), and from where she cannot leave (she was there, after all, for Rapunzel).

Perhaps— Cassandra thinks that maybe she has some pieces of the young Cassandra still, within herself, the one who made so many sacrifices for Rapunzel; the idea makes her stomach weigh. But she is _no_ _longer_ the same, she is no longer the same, and so she allows herself to give Rapunzel some gifts.

And she _did_ feel a warmth in her chest when Rapunzel stood up to defend her.

The future queen turns again to talk to her: she sighs, and Cassandra only then notices the years weighing in on her. "Sorry about that, Cass. You-you know how these people are."

Cassandra smiles, disconcerted. "I know."

"If things weren't so complicated, I'd have her removed from the table— you understand, don't you?"

"Yes, Raps. Don't worry about it."

"Can we talk about other things? We have so much to catch up on."

"So much that I don't even know where to start... "

"How's the wound? The last one you told me in your letter."

Cassandra rises the left sleeve of her blouse and exposes her shoulder to Rapunzel; a deep cut decorates her skin, on the process of healing. Rapunzel sucks the air through her teeth in empathy.

"Oh, Cass. Does it still hurt?"

"Not much. But I'm still cleaning it up."

Rapunzel looks at her in a way, and Cassandra cannot decide if her expression is pity, remorse, or something else. Cassandra is frustrated by her difficulty in identifying what Rapunzel is feeling, as she did in the past: it is almost the same feeling of waking up and trying hard to remember a dream that's already escaping from your memory. Maybe time taught Rapunzel not to let herself show her feelings out in the open anymore. "If you need it, I could ask one of our doctors to take a look at it for you."

"No— you don't have to, Raps. But thank you."

The women’s conversation falls to silence and Rapunzel goes back to paying attention to the others at the table. The night passes slowly; Cassandra feels her eyes heavy with her long journey and the little wine she had. Everything feels like a dream; she swears that if she slept now, she would wake up the next day in her bed, on her home the other side of the continent.

Despite her tiredness, Cassandra stays awake all night: near the end of dinner, she thanks god when the guests begin to get up to leave, more than half drunken on wine. One of the servants left — Matthew, if Cassandra is not mistaken — approaches Rapunzel. "Do you want me to take your new guests to their quarters, Your Highness?"

Like Cassandra _needed_ help navigating through that castle.

"Please, Matthew, take Mr. Elias to his room; I can take Cassandra to hers."

Cassandra likes, she thinks, this older Rapunzel: determined, elegant, speaking like a queen. (But still Rapunzel: she casts a glance at Cassandra, a silent question; _Is that okay,_ _Cass?_ and in response, Cassandra nods). Cassandra says goodnight to her few friends at the table, kisses her father on the cheek. If he wants to talk about what happened at the table, he does not show; instead, he just says good night to her, which Cassandra greatly appreciates.

"I'm proud of you," he murmurs softly to her.

☾

"I had the best guest room tidied up for you, Cass," Rapunzel says as they walk down the halls of the castle, "but I also had your old room cleaned— I didn't know which one you'd prefer..."

The consideration warms Cassandra's heart. She reflects; although part of her believes that she deserves more than a mere room for handmaidens, she feels strangely nostalgic, and reproducing a bit of the past is an idea that sounds embarrassingly indulgent to her. "I think my old room is fine, Raps. Thank you,"

The two instinctively adapt the path they take in order to go to Cassandra's room. A silence falls upon them, now that they are alone: strange and alien, and slightly painful, as if touching an old wound. Rapunzel carries an expression of caution that Cassandra recognizes as uncertainty.

Cassandra tries to make small talk. "So... How's your daughter, Raps?"

"Oh, Astra— she's asleep now, but I'm sure when she’s awake tomorrow she'll love to meet you, Cass."

"She's how old, again? Four?"

"Four years old. And she’s already so tall! I think she got that from Eugene."

Cassandra doesn't know how to talk about other people's children. What else should she ask to equate the sparkle in Rapunzel's eyes whenever she talks about her daughter? So she lets the silence return once more. It is torture, to hear only the steps of the two of them echo through the corridors; Cassandra has a feeling that she might be a haunting, a sort of ghost, in that palace.

"I hope the journey here was good," says Rapunzel as she turns her face to find Cassandra's, breaking the silence again, her hands intertwined in front of her body, "the city is a mess, isn't it, because of the coronation— was it hard to get through the crowd?"

"Ah... Not much... I mean, the trip was fine— but we arrived in the late afternoon, remember, so the streets weren't _that_ crowded. If they were—" _I_ _wouldn't have risked going through them. "_ Well _—_ anyway. It was good."

Rapunzel seems to understand what Cassandra left unsaid. She frowns, worried, and it takes her a few seconds to respond. "Don't worry, okay? No one's going to do anything to you, I assure you. You're my guest of honor, and I will be queen— If I say you are welcome in my kingdom, then you _are_ welcome. It’s your home."

But of course, no matter how lovingly Rapunzel received Cassandra in Corona, she would still get startled looks wherever she went, if she were to be recognized. The city where she grew up and lived in for more than twenty years would never be her home, the people would never accept her as theirs. This hurts Cassandra more than it could be put into words, but... this is no one else's fault but hers. So instead of contradicting Rapunzel, provoking her old vice of insisting on solving all the world's problems, Cassandra just thanks her. Corona _is not_ her home, and it will never be again, but having Rapunzel claim otherwise is almost a comfort.

It is strange to look at Rapunzel now and see how age’s changes have kissed her face — her young nineteen-year-old features are now matured and hardened by time and experience; her eyes sparkling with some kind of glow that makes her look like a real queen. Even her voice seems to carry, in a way, less of that splendor of her youth and more of a seriousness, sweet and firm, a deep and delicious timbre behind her words. Her whole body fuller, possibly because of pregnancy, and a sureness in her steps. She looks, more than ever, so much like her late mother; her hair past her shoulders, her eyes lovely and penetrating, the wrinkle of concern in her brow. Smiling, however, she is still the same, despite the corners of her eyes being outlined with wrinkles while doing so. Cassandra feels a twinge on her chest.

And ultimately, Cassandra thinks she will never be able to get used to her brunette hair again; when she sees Rapunzel in her dreams, they are always golden strands of hair, infinitely long and shiny, descending from her head, framing her face, and flowing like a waterfall reflecting sun rays. Sometimes that is all she remembers—the golden glow, blinding, eternal.

When they arrive at Cassandra's bedroom door, she opens the door herself and finds everything exactly the way she left it. Her bed, the chest at the foot of the bed, where she once kept her clothes, her closet with the sun and moon carved into the doors, the window with the cracked glass, the bookshelves that still have some of the books she had abandoned. She walks to the closet and opens it: all her old weapons are still there.

"I-I made sure no one touched your room," Rapunzel says behind her, leaning against the door frame. "I only asked for the dust to be cleaned once in a while."

"Oh, thank you! Wow!... Even my old halberd is here..."

The white shine of the Moon whispers through the window; _plus est en vous._

So Cassandra sits on her old bed, takes off her gloves, and strokes her hand on her bed linen — the place where she slept for eight years — and, mesmerized by nostalgia, only then realizes that she put her right hand on display. She feels her face flush as if she had been caught doing something she shouldn't — she suddenly became painfully conscious of her right arm and quickly put her gloves back on. She does not miss Rapunzel’s gaze on her hand; she manages to see Rapunzel's expression change, too, to something beyond the caution she had been wearing since Cassandra arrived: it was remorse, almost the same expression that looked back at Cassandra in the reflection of the mirror every other day. Despite this, Rapunzel manages to look away; perhaps she has learned over the years that certain things are better left unsaid. Or maybe she just learned new ways of feeling her shame—in silence, rather than trying uselessly to make amends.

"Well," Rapunzel rushes to say, embarrassed, "I'll let you settle down. Good night, Cass—see you tomorrow."

"…Good night, Raps. See you tomorrow."

When Cassandra lays down to sleep that night, she sinks into the mattress and fits in it as if it had never forgotten her shape. She hears the Moon, outside, whistling an old coronian song she thought she had forgotten, and dreams of nothing but the Sun.

☾

The next day, Cassandra meets Astra.

There is not much to say about her at first: she's a four-year-old. Like every four-year-old, she is curious, agitated, full of snot, and a little shy around strangers. She has brown hair, and is Eugene’s exact reflection, from the nose, to the curve of the mouth, to the color and shape of the eyes. The cheeks, however, are speckled with freckles identical to Rapunzel's.

"Go say hi to Auntie Cass, Astra," Rapunzel gently instigates her.

" _Hi,_ " she says, shy, through the tangle of rapunzel's dress.

"Hi, Astra, " Cassandra kneels to look her in the eye. "I've heard a lot about you, from your mother."

The child looks at her in silence.

"Tell Cassandra what you got for your birthday, honey."

"A sword," Astra says, proudly, her hands clinging on her mother.

_"_ A _wooden_ sword _,"_ Rapunzel whispers.

"Is that right?" Cassandra smiles; this is something she and Astra have in common. "Do you like swords?"

She nods.

"Do you want to see my sword?" she takes her belt off her shoulder, where her old sword rests on the scabbard. Astra's eyes glow, and she comes out from behind her mother's legs to get close to Cassandra. "This is an old friend; I've had it with me since your mother was a girl. This sword and I have been through a lot together."

Cassandra lets Astra hold the sword by the scabbard. "It's a saber," Astra says, full of pride.

"That's right! You're an expert, it seems." Rapunzel and Cassandra exchange glances, and Cassandra realizes that Rapunzel is so full of pride for the girl. Something strange squeezes Cassandra's heart.

"Mom said— _you're the best swordswoman she's_ _ever seen,"_ Astra whispers.

Laughing, Cassandra looks up, and finds Rapunzel's gaze again. She smiles back. "...Well, I think she's being a little too generous. But I'm really good; it’s true. Who knows; when you're older, maybe I’ll teach you a few things with a real _sword?_ ”

The girl shines with enthusiasm.

"She tries to convince me every day to give her a real sword. With a _blade,_ Cassandra."

"Look, I got my first sword at nine, so you might have to wait a while, Astra."

" _Cass!_ Nine years old is _still_ too young."

"Cassandra, do you want our daughter to _cut her finger off_ or something?" Eugene enters the room and approaches them in a thin robe, worthy of a king. _Someone has adapted very, very well to this life,_ Cassandra thinks.

He kisses Rapunzel on the cheek and puts his hand on her back. The three seem, from end to end, a traditional Corona family, and it doesn't surprise Cassandra (but it hurts her a little, she cannot help it) how much they fit into that scenario: king, queen and their daughter, in their palace, in the vast and rich living room.

"A nine-year-old girl is already mature enough to learn how to fight. Astra, don't you think your dad's being boring?"

Astra leaves her mother’s side, approaches Cassandra even more and holds her arm. "Yes, he's sooo boring! Auntie Cass is so much cooler than you Daddy," and she even shows Eugene her tongue.

Cassandra looks at Eugene and grins, and the prince, in turn, makes a sullen face. "I'm not _boring_! I'm cool, too, Astra! I'm your father...!"

"Okay, but can you do _this?_ Astra, don’t let go of my arm." Cassandra gets up, and lifts Astra with a single arm, the girl clinging to her like a little monkey swinging on a tree. She giggles endlessly.

"What— who _says_ I can't? My _back_ is fragile, okay, not my arms—"

"Eugene," Rapunzel puts a hand on his shoulder, worried, "I think you better not try to do that."

"Yeah, _Eugene,_ " Cassandra scoffs, "we don't want your poor back to hurt."

Astra lets out a long, delicious laugh, and Cassandra decides she'd do anything for that little girl.

"Sunshine, I don't know if Cass is a good influence on our daughter."

In response, Rapunzel smiles and gives Eugene a kiss on the cheek. "I'm going to take Astra for a shower. Come on, baby."

She looks shyly at Cassandra. "Can I play with Auntie Cass when I get back?"

"Sure, honey." Rapunzel smiles broadly at Cassandra, and at that moment, she hardly regrets going to Corona.

When she and Eugene are left alone, he approaches Cassandra, scratches his goatee. "She liked you."

"I liked her, too."

"Hey— Cass— I was thinking of grabbing a drink at the Snuggling Duck later. If you want to join me..."

" _Snuggling Duck?_ Eugene, you know you will be crowned _king_ tomorrow, right?"

" _Ha._ That's right."

"Do you know the kind of gossip that would run around in the kingdom if they saw you drinking in a bar like _that,_ a _day_ before your coronation?"

"I _know everyone_ who goes to that place. None of them are the gossiping type. Besides..." he opens his arms and gestures to himself, as if to say, _look at me,_ "I was a _thief,_ Cassandra. Everybody knows that. My reputation can't be much more tarnished than that. And the best thing is that the people _like_ me, Cass. It's not much of a tradition for Corona _to have ex-criminals_ as kings, but — not wanting to brag —sometimes a charismatic leader is enough to change the view of an entire kingdom."

Cassandra wonders how exactly Eugene is feeling about the whole situation of being a king if he needs to go out for a _drink_ before being crowned. And she imagines he's probably not handling it very well. Going to a bar with _Eugene doesn't really seem_ to be the best idea of fun, exactly, but it does not seem like a bad idea to go get a drink. "I don't think even _the most charismatic leader out there_ could change Corona, the most _unchanging_ kingdom in the world, Fitzherbert, believe me. Imagine you." She shrugs. "But... Okay. I'll get a booze with you."

Eugene raises his eyebrows in amazement, then lets out a chuckle. "I didn't think you'd really accept it."

"Please... I have more things to do than bother grown man about his questionable decisions. _For example..._ getting a booze."

"Now we’re talking."

☾

Cassandra and Eugene get a booze at Snuggling Duck.

Nothing has changed in the bar — the place is stuck in time. Yellowish lights, smell of wood and beer, lively music, bandits talking loudly; Cassandra realizes that Eugene seems especially at ease in the bar, where everyone greets him as an old friend and not as the future king of Corona. Even his clothes fit in (he made sure to wear simpler clothes than the ones he wears in the palace) and when he took Cassandra to the stools in front of the counter and asked for two of the usual, she knew that visits were probably more frequent than a prince should allow himself.

"... and now my father and I are living in this village, right, outside the territory of the Seven Kingdoms," Cassandra continues her story, sips her beer, "it's not much bigger than Old Corona... And as I said, after I drove away a group of bandits there, a few years ago, I decided to stick around, and they welcomed me as the defense of the place— it's a village that receives a lot of travelers, because it's kind of a point halfway, in the middle of the road... and, you know, they don't belong in any kingdom—they have their own culture and traditions, and I felt very welcomed..."

"And it was ideal for you and your father," Eugene added.

"Yeah. I mean, I spent a lot of time traveling, and when I finally felt ready to meet my dad again, you know, we needed a place for both of us. He’s old, after all. And he-- well, I don't _know_ how much Rapunzel tells you about what I say in our letters, but he's _engaged now_ to someone in the village, so—"

"Oh, yeah, Rapunzel told me. Man, I can't _imagine_ the old Captain in love... Happy for him, though."

 _"Elias._ You know he doesn't like being called captain anymore."

"Right, right— _Elias._ I'm sorry, i'm sorry. But I'm really happy for him. When's the wedding?"

"The wedding traditions there are quite different from Corona's— they usually wait for the spring equinox to perform this kind of ceremony... To symbolize the bloom of love or something. So it's probably just going to happen next year."

"Kind of like Arendelle, from what I’ve heard…?"

"Yes, it’s similar to Arendelle— it's true... Apart from the fact that there, a marriage is more of a _mark_ of a relationship and less a legal union— they have no documents involved or anything like that. But they're _so_ in love, my father and Samuel. I’m not worried the wedding takes a little time to happen."

"Good for them." Eugene finishes his second beer and asks for a third. "Want one more?"

"I haven't finished my first one yet— I'm not a big fan of beer, to tell you the truth."

"Oh, isn't _tough Cassandra_ tough enough to have a beer?"

"I prefer _vodka."_

Eugene's expression falls.

“Haha _._ Just kidding, dude. I just don't drink much— but I _do_ miss Ingvarr's vodka."

"Man, you've been to a lot of places, huh...?"

"What about you, Fitzherbert? How have— how have you been here?"

Now close to Eugene, under the lights of the Snuggling Duck, Cassandra notices how he has aged; the wrinkles on his face, the hair loss, the fallen eyes, the loss of muscles (he just does not seem to have managed to grow anything other than his old goatee). Cassandra has been delighting herself in this strange pastime since arriving in Corona; noticing every detail of how the people she knew before aged, and how they remained the same.

"Oh, you know—" Eugene put his arm on the behind of the chair, slides his finger on the edge of his mug. "A lot— a lot has happened, Cassandra, since you left. I'm sure Rapunzel told you a lot, but— Corona is a kingdom full of _problems—_ you know that, you grew up here. I've been everywhere when I was younger. Certainly— not in as many places as you or Lance, but— now that I’ve been so long in Corona, the problems of this kingdom have begun to appear to me more as a _personal_ _thing_ and less as something of yet another place I'm passing through."

"Because _it had_ to be personal, right? You married Rapunzel—and so you agreed to be _king,_ Eugene."

 _"Yes—_ yes, I know. That’s what I wanted to tell you— Rapunzel suffers so much, Cassandra, trying to solve all of Corona's problems. You... You know how she is, right, you remember. She matured a lot, but _this_ continued— and it only got worse over the years when she realized the _weight_ she would carry when she became queen. Her father— was never much of— of a king who ruled for the people, you know. When Rapunzel finally realized that, well—she wants to be a good queen, Cassandra. She _really_ does _._ That's why I think sometimes... maybe she won’t be _happy_ being a queen."

Cassandra raises her eyebrows. "Are you insinuating that a _corrupt queen_ is happy, and a good queen is unhappy?"

"Well— in a way, yes. She's _too_ good, Cassandra, to be royalty. But there's nothing she can do, right? She is the _light, Corona's_ hope, ever since she was found again. A legend, almost."

"... What about you?"

"Oh, I'm also a legend, of course. You forgot?" he corrects his posture and strikes a pose. "Flynn Rider, the master of thieves."

" _Master_ is a bit of an exaggeration. And you know what I mean— how are you feeling? Being crowned a _king?_ "

It takes a second for him to respond. "Ah... Don't worry about me, I mean— I got into this _for her,_ right? So, here I am. I won’t back down."

"... You're a little— I mean, you don't want to stick my nose where I shouldn’t—"

"I'm happy, Cassandra. How can I not be? My life's _dream_ has always been to settle down and have money. If I have to take care of a kingdom next to my wife, then how can I complain, you know? But I _love_ Rapunzel. She's the love of my life—I just want her to be happy."

"And— things are... _good,_ between you?"

"Yes— of course. It always has been, but— well, you know, she lived her whole life in that tower. And then, in this _palace..._ She deserves to find company in other people besides me, the way I did before I met her."

"…Oh...So you two..."

 _"Uhum."_ He smiles, a little sad, but so completely sincere (Cassandra can't remember one single time she's even seen Eugene being this sincere, in the past, while talking alone with him.) "We are _royalty,_ Cass. It's normal to have affairs with other people in secret—almost customary. But we still love each other; we work for Corona _together,_ and she's my best friend."

One fact that has always been known is that Cassandra never liked Eugene very much when she was young. She found him arrogant, childish and, frankly, far from being deserving of Rapunzel's love. But he was always _good_ for her, as much as Cassandra hates to admit it, and today, talking to him, she realizes that maybe Eugene has grown up to become a man who deserves Rapunzel. And maybe he will be a good king. It is always better, Cassandra went on to learn, in those traveling years, to have a person of the people in power rather than someone who has spent years and years living amongst thrones and riches.

"I'm glad you're being good to her, Eugene."

He chuckles. "I'm happy, too. That's all I want to do."

Not knowing exactly what to say, Cassandra lets him go on.

"Cassandra— she missed you so much. All this time, that you've been away, I never knew exactly what to say to her—about you. Your relationship has always seemed a long way from me. For most things, I can be there for her; but I could never replace _you,_ Cass." Eugene looks at her with painful sincerity in his eyes, and Cassandra can barely sustain his gaze.

"I think that— that she misses you. Not just you, but the time you were friends— the time she went out to explore the world. After that, she had to go back to the _prison_ that is that palace — I'm not going to pretend she's freer now that she's out of the tower, Cassandra, because _she's not — and_ on top of that, she lost _you._ As I said, Cass, she is too good to be queen, but she is also too good to simply abandon this whole kingdom that is now in her hands.

"What I mean is, Cassandra; I'll never know exactly what happened between you, and I don't know if you'll ever afford to attend any of Rapunzel’s wishes again. So I ask you now; I just want her happy, Cassandra. I hope you understand that she has spent all these years thinking about you; and that she has matured in this way that we mature when we deeply regret something we did when we were young. Don't blame her for calling you here... If she— if she asks you for something, or reveals any feelings to you— please consider, perhaps, granting her wishes. Just— consider it."

In response to this, Cassandra doesn't know what to say. What does he-- what does he even _mean_ by all that? Was he— asking for—

Cassandra reflects for a few seconds, looking for an answer, and then says; "You two have changed so much," before she can stop herself.

Eugene chuckles, a little tired, and finishes his third mug of beer. "Well, you almost haven't changed at all."

This was said without much malice and with a familiarity, or nostalgia, in the tone. It is almost sweet, so much that she is surprised; as if she and Eugene were old friends, not just acquaintances connected by a woman. But Cassandra can't help but feel, a little, as if she were being reprimanded; _You're the same as before, Cassandra, when you hurt Rapunzel._

Because it is not true; Cassandra's changed so much. She can perceive the changes when she looks in the mirror; when she spins her memories between the fingers of her mind; when she meets new places and new people and molds herself, completely new, in a constant flourish. That is what she is made of: changes (and still a bit of Rapunzel, still a bit of Moon.)

"Your request... I'll think about it."

☾

The Moon pulls and pushes the waves from the sea to the beach of the Corona palace. It is so easy to sit on the sand and feel the salty breeze on her nape, as Cassandra used to do before; her private place, accessed by the secret tunnels of the palace. She feels small, fragile, as if she were fourteen years old again, recently admitted to the service staff at the castle. It was in the first month in the position that little Cassandra could not sleep in that bed away from her father, fled from her quarters one night and found the mysterious tunnels; ran through them with a single candle in her hands to the beach, where she sat on the sand and cried, feeling wild and so, so alone, things on her chest asking to be free and go elsewhere.

What is the difference, Cassandra wonders, between that day and today? The grains of sand beneath her are certainly not the same anymore. The weight of her body, greater: her large and wide shoulders, her body decorated by scars, her right arm decomposed and thin, her curls cut shorter. A pier was built closer to the site, which did not exist before. Other than that, everything is the same; It’s like she's never left Corona. It’s like she has been working at the castle still, all the time.

But she knows that is not what happened, she has to force herself to remember, and the thought comforts her perhaps even more than the smell of the sea. She knows the truth: she left Corona, grew up, and went back to the same place, and it's like she could hug fourteen-year-old Cassandra if she leaned forward a little.

Tonight, the Moon is silent. It's good, too, to be able to sit in a comfortable silence with someone else.

Here's what Cassandra says out loud, to herself, or to the moon: "I think Rapunzel is avoiding me. She hasn't talked to me almost all day." She thinks about it, and adds to the previous thought: "Or maybe she's just busy with the preparations for the coronation; she's a busy woman."

Sighing, she throws herself on her back, lays in the sand, and looks up at the sky. "So why did she even invite me?"

Was it to serve as an accessory? To prove she's charitable and benevolent? Would all that be some kind of cuddling of her own ego? Or a simple blind attempt to try to retie some knot without even trying to talk about it? Was she still so ignorant? Cassandra wants to believe she isn’t— Eugene believes she isn’t, and yet—

"And I came," she concludes.

The crescent Moon says nothing, but seems to smile patiently in the night sky.

"I wish you’d talk to me when I want you to, you know. It seems like you've only been showing up lately when you're not welcome."

Nothing in her ears but the sound of the waves.

Cassandra laughs out loud. "I'm too old for this shit."

She closes her eyes, and she thinks— that's all she's been doing lately. Think. As she grew older, traveling in silence, only with the sound of nature, the Moon, and her own thoughts, Cassandra learned that letting them be born in her head and staying there until they dissolve sometimes is not so bad, no matter what they were. It's been good, she thinks. Maybe it wasn't such a bad idea, going back to Corona; It's not that bad right now.

With her ears close to the sand, and her distant connection to the soil (although sand is the most difficult soil to hear), Cassandra hears footsteps approach. She puts her hand on her sword and rises slowly; she relaxes only when she sees, in the distance, the figure of a woman with long brown hair and a long white and lilac dress flying in the wind.

"Cass—," Rapunzel smiles shyly as she approaches, pulling the hair off her face and placing them behind her ear. That particular vision stirs cassandra a little, so she has to discreetly count the fingers of her hand, to make sure she is not dreaming. "I've been looking for you— I should have known from the beginning that you were here."

"I'm surprised you still remember the way through the tunnels."

"I could never forget. Can I sit down?"

Cassandra grants her a spot, and Rapunzel sits next to her in the sand. With the breeze towards her, Cassandra realizes that Rapunzel still has the same smell she always had. "I came to say goodnight."

"Right," Cassandra smiles, a bit out of place suddenly, "big day tomorrow, right?

"Oh- don't even remind me. I've been preparing everything all day—I'm really, really sorry, i didn't have time for you."

Cassandra shrugs, "I understand."

They both look at the horizon. "Beautiful night today," says Rapunzel. Cassandra agrees.

"You know— once, only once, in all this time, I found a lantern— of your birthday. I was overseas— somehow, don't ask me how, it was still lit...! I took it in my hands— it made me ache, missing Corona."

Rapunzel looks at her and smiles—how can she do it, smile like that, even still? "Do you think the lantern wanted to guide you home?"

"I don't think Corona is my home anymore."

The way Rapunzel looks at her from the corner of her eye seems to suggest that she disagrees, but she says nothing. Her smile falls, and turns into something a little melancholic in the brief silence. "I can't believe you've been away all these years, and that I'm going to be queen."

"... I believe it. That's the deal, isn't it? To be a princess, and then a queen."

"I don't think I'm going manage, to be everything my parents wanted me to be." She makes small drawings in the sand with her fingertip; a bird, the Sun, a flower. "When my mother died, god— I couldn't get out of bed for days. I know that this is not how a future queen should behave in the face of something like this; I know I should show myself strong to the people of Corona. But even Eugene couldn't get me up for three days."

"That— that's normal, Raps. You were in mourning."

"Yes— and _paralyzed,_ without the support of my parents."

Cassandra does not say anything. Rapunzel draws a boat in the sand, and the Moon above it. "I feel _old,_ Cass, but so inexperienced. It's like I'm still in the tower— I miss it, when I was young, and the world was in front of me to be explored."

Cassandra's chest hurts with the princess's confession; the woman who tomorrow will be a queen and oh how the burden weighs on her arms, how the cage of her inheritance suffocates her. "You— do _you want_ to be queen, Raps?"

She looks at Cassandra, and Cassandra once again cannot read her expression. "Of course."

"Well— you shouldn't be if you don't want to."

"You know that's not how it works."

"Isn't it? You could just leave."

"Cass, I have an entire kingdom, and my parents, to honor. I had this path prepared for me. I have a _daughter._ And they expect from me yet another child; a son."

"I know it's not that easy. But you got rid of Gothel. You deserve to get rid of anything else you want."

"Ah, Cass..." She looks tired. "I wish things were different, but they're not."

Isn't that the motto of their whole relationship? If things were different... If the past could be changed... But Rapunzel is right; there is no way for a queen to escape the throne. She knows it wouldn't be easy, as it wasn't easy for her to leave Corona—and come back, too. Cassandra simply feels miserable with how Rapunzel sounds so much like King Frederick.

They fall into silence.

"Cass, I—I wanted to ask you something." She then takes Cassandra’s hand and interweaves their fingers; from inside her glove, Cassandra's decayed hand itches. "You— you know I declared your exile over, Cass. I— would you— would you came back to Corona?"

Somehow, it's just then that Cassandra wonders how she hadn't suspected that this question would come before. She had hardly considered the idea; Why would anyone in Corona want her back? But now that she hears the question —which seems more like a request — coming out of Rapunzel's mouth, she feels an old anger bubbling inside her chest. "...What?"

"Cass—! You're free to come back! I know things aren't the way they used to be, but..."

"Raps— that's very sweet of you, but I can't come back."

"Of course you can—you can come _home,_ my dear—"

"Corona is not my home any longer," Cassandra cuts her.

"But it may be again…! _Don't you see,_ Cass...?" Rapunzel looks at her directly now, and Cassandra cannot believe the _intensity_ that suddenly appears on her face. "I— you could come back, and I would protect you, Cass, from anyone who wanted to hurt you— you could live in the _castle_ if you wished—"

" _I'm_ not _going back to the castle,"_ she interrupts again, firmer this time, and lets go of Rapunzel’s hand. And then, she lets out a single chuckle, dry and incredulous. “ _God_ , Raps. I can’t — I can't _believe_ it. I'm _not_ your handmaiden anymore."

Rapunzel's face darkens. "That's not what I meant."

Cassandra walks away from Rapunzel. _Now_ she understands — understands Rapunzel's plan, and Eugene's; that of trying to bring her back to be easier for Rapunzel to be crowned, and accepting to continue living encaged for the rest of her life in that castle. _Not_ to see Cassandra, to have her consolation, her company; it was just so she could _feel_ _better._ "You haven't changed _at all_ in all these years? You can't take me back like charity, or some nostalgic plan, so you can get back whatever you lost from your youth—"

_"Cass."_

"Sorry, Raps," Cassandra is far too old to feel angry as she used to, so she doesn't even speak loudly; what comes out of her mouth instead is something tired and bitter, "really. But you can't keep doing this — this thing you always do — I came here— I traveled for three _months—_ to be _here for_ you, and you didn't even _ask me_ about _me_ , didn't even— and you want _more?_ You want _more and more and more of_ me— I have a _life_ out there— and you want everything out of me still, twenty years later?!” She looks up at the sky and sighs deeply, so her voice does not begin to tremble; she passes her fingers through her curls. She feels a pathetic urge to cry, as if she were a girl again, _god— then_ she stands up and prepares to leave. "Maybe I shouldn't even have come."

Rapunzel does not say anything else, and she does not try to stop Cassandra from leaving. At least in this aspect she has matured; she just stays silent, like she’s given up, her eyes sad and tired.

"I'm sorry, Rapunzel. Good night." Cassandra feels her gaze on her back as she walks to the tunnel entrance and returns to her quarters to lie down. The moon remains silent until dawn.

☾

Cassandra dreams that night that she is an old fisherman. On his boat, he smokes his pipe and carves, on a piece of wood, a sculpture of a beautiful mermaid. When he is finished, the sculpture is the most beautiful work of art that has ever been created in the world. He throws the sculpture into the ocean, as an offering to the Moon, or a gift to the ocean, or a relief. So Cassandra is now the sculpture; it sinks into the dark sea until it reaches the bottom, and is covered by sand. It remains there for hundreds and hundreds of years, watching the fish pass by, until it is found by the net of an old fisherman. The fisherman raises Cassandra (now sculpture) against the Sun; the Sun, blinded by its beauty, has to close her eyes.

☾

"Hi, Auntie Cass," Astra approaches, timid, the breakfast table.

"Good morning, kiddo."

She leans her chin against the table surface (it's the highest she can reach) and blinks slowly at Cassandra. She then blinks to the other girls at the table. "Hi, Mary and Faith and Caroline and Little Mary and Virginia and Anna."

A collective" awww" spreads on the table.

"Good morning, Astra, darling, " says Mary.

"Isn't she the cutest thing in the world...?" sighs Little Mary.

"She likes you, Cass," Virginia says.

"Have you eaten today, Astra?" asks Anne.

She nods, happy with the attention. The housekeeper of the castle enters the kitchen at that moment, completely stressed, a mess of hair. She is a woman not much older than Cassandra, and Cassandra does not remember her name, but all the younger girls on the staff apparently call her Bog Witch in secret.

"Astra!!" she exclaims exasperatedly, gesturing exaggeratedly with her arms. "Everyone's looking for you, little girl! You need to get ready for the coronation!!"

While Bog Witch takes Astra hurriedly by the hand, she looks back. "And you girls! Do you people think you’re on _vacation,_ uh?!! You don't have time to enjoy breakfast!! The whole castle is in a hurry, and you're there stalling?!! Come on, there are still a ton of preparations to be made!!" She disappears screaming, scolding in the halls.

_"Ugh,"_ Little Mary rolls her eyes. "I _can't stand_ this woman. Can't we even _eat?_ Oh, for god's sake."

"Right! We need to eat breakfast to have energy for the day," agrees Caroline. She and Little Mary are two of the younger handmaidens at that table; maybe around five years older than Cassandra, when she began to work in the palace.

"Girls, I tell you every day; at least she's _not Old Lady Crowley,_ may she rest in peace," says Faith, one of the oldest at the table; Cassandra did not know her, as she replaced her as Rapunzel's lady-in-waiting for a while. The position was not ideal for her (she was far too anxious), so she was moved to the handmaiden staff instead. "Cassandra, _you_ were here at the time she was alive. Tell them."

_"Faith,_ don't speak ill of the dead," scolds Mary, one of Cassandra's only friends at the table, from her time working at the palace.

"Well, Mary— I have to agree, Old Crowley was hardcore— no offense to the deceased." Cassandra turns to the younger girls, "This _Bog Witch_ doesn't seem to have much of a nerve to run the castle."

Giggles run between the girls, with the use of the nickname.

"Honestly, she makes me _miss_ Crowley a little. This woman stresses me," says Virginia.

"No wonder you’d miss her, Virginia— even _Crowley_ couldn't tame you back then," Cassandra pokes her food and smiles at the memories.

_"Cass— no_ one could tame _you_ back then, you mean! Girls, if you knew all the _trouble_ young Cassandra got in—!"

"Tell us, Cassandra!" asks Anna, the youngest on the table (she must be around seventeen).

"Yes, Cassandra, please! We've heard so many stories about you," Little Mary asks, and pokes Caroline next to her excitedly.

Cassandra chuckles. "Girls, please— _Virginia,_ you're talking like I'm so _old_."

_"_ You _are_ old, Cassandra. We're all old," Mary laughs.

"Well, I _still_ get in a lot of trouble, just so you know."

Exclamations of curiosity explode on the table.

"Cassandra, if I may say so, you look like a hero of knight stories!" Anna sighs. "You’re so—so—"

" _Handsome,_ " giggles Little Mary.

_"Mary!"_

"What? It's true! Aren’t we all thinking that? Her short curls, her sharp look, the scar on her face—"

"Her _muscles,_ " adds Caroline.

_"Girls—!_ Manners," asks Faith.

"Honestly, you're all making Cassandra sound like some kind of _rebel_ when she worked at the castle," says Mary. “She was, in fact, the most disciplined of us! Daughter of the _head of the Guard,_ for god's sake—"

"But _then_ she became a rebel, right?" Little Mary leans over the table, almost knocking down her food. "Coronians see you as some kind of _villain_ , Cassandra, especially the nobility— but we on the castle staff know that you are more of a _misunderstood hero._ "

Is that so? How must the stories about Cassandra have grown and changed, she wonders, but is not sure if she really wants to know. She just laughs, a bit embarrassed. It is so easy to forget that people can talk about Cassandra without her presence. It’s strange. Cassandra does not know how to feel about it: sometimes, she wishes the stories about her could only be spread with her permission. On the other hand _, she likes it,_ a little, that the stories ended up in corona's palace among the young women who do today the same work she used to do.

"Girls," Faith insists on scolding them, "let's not talk about things Cassandra finds unpleasant."

"It’s all right, Faith. But honestly— my stories _outside of_ Corona are much more exciting."

"Oh, you must have seen so many things, Cass— so many languages you must know how to speak," says Virginia.

"I’m so _envious,"_ says Anna, "I wish I could travel the world like you... living adventures..."

"Honestly, I like it here. Much _safer,_ " says Faith.

"Faith, how _boring_ you are _,_ " complains Little Mary. " No offense."

"You're so very rude, girl. If you'd said these things to the superiors _of my_ time, they would have given you a beating!"

_"Cassandra,"_ Carolina interrupts, "tell us an exciting story!"

The table falls into the silence of expectation; they even stop eating.

Cassandra ponders for a few seconds. "... want to hear about the time I killed a _sea serpent?_ "

_"Yes!!,"_ the young women exclaim in unison.

"Well—I was traveling with pirates in the ocean of Neserdnia—"

"With _pirates?!"_ Little Mary exclaims.

"Yes— the name of the ship was, coincidentally, The Serpent—

"Why, Cassandra, were you traveling with pirates?" asks Little Mary.

"I owed a favor to the captain of the ship. I traveled with her across the seas for a long time... That particular night, the crew was especially anxious—we had been out on the open sea for a long time, and that's never very good for anyone's sanity. A rain was falling, and a storm was starting to form in the distance... I went to the captain's chambers to talk to her about—"

"Were you and this captain… _involved_?" Little Mary asks.

_"Mary!"_ Faith exclaims for what appears to be the tenth time that morning, "For god's sake, let Cassandra tell the story!" 

“ _What?!_ It's a fair question."

"Why do you have to see romance in _everything,_ Little Mary," asks Virginia.

"Every good story needs romance! So, what’s the answer, Cassandra...? That is, I don't mean to be nosey, but..."

"You, with absolute certainty, _do mean_ to be nosey, Mary," says Caroline.

Little Mary, in response, claps her palms on the table. "... Were you involved or not?!"

Cassandra smiles. "... Maybe..."

Exclamations spread across the table.

"What do you mean _maybe!"_

"You _have_ to tell us!"

"Cassandra, you naughty—

" _Please_ let her finish the story...!"

_"_ Cassandra _,_ you must have had _so_ _many_ romances on your travels..."

Cassandra has always loved telling tales of her travels to an audience willing to listen; she _likes_ to feel like the hero of the story, it could not be avoided. But there was something more special about telling these stories in Corona to the young women on the castle staff; her old colleagues, and the young girls. It's _good,_ Cassandra decides.

"One romance or other," Cassandra says.

"So it's _true_?" Little Mary is shining with happiness, while finding out all those things about Cassandra. "That you— you know— favor _women_...?"

Faith seems to be about to slap Little Mary. But Cassandra chuckles, and responds; "It's true."

The younger women at the table exchange excited glances; Anna's face blushes deeply.

"Well, Cass, you were never really a girl who surrendered to Corona's traditional conventions," Mary says.

“Good for you that you left,” says Virginia.

"Mary— Virginia— has young Cassandra ever gotten into... _troubles_ of this caliber, when she worked in the castle?"

"Little _Mary!"_ Faith again, _"For the love—"_

"As I said,"" Virginia sighs, "Cass was very well behaved at the time. It was the _princess_ who dragged her with her, looking for trouble— you've all certainly _heard_ the stories of how Her Highness was like as a young woman."

_"So,_ Cassandra, are the rumors _true_ — that you and the princess were... _You know..._ "

This time, everyone at the table scolds Little Mary. Cassandra is taken by surprise; she never knew this rumor existed. She can do nothing but look away and scratch her nape, disconcerted. "... _No_ — it's not true." She laughs a little, given the absurdity of the situation. "Sorry to disappoint, girls, we were just friends."

This time, Faith actually slaps Little Mary in the arm. "Watch what you say, girl— imagine if anyone heard you, talking nonsense—!"

"Actually, I think it's _best_ for all of us if we moved on to our duties," says Mary, "we've already stalled enough; I'm sorry to be the old boring lady, but it's true. We have only a few hours until the coronation!"

"Right, girls; Leave poor Cass alone. The story will have to wait for another time." Virginia gets up and starts collecting the dishes. "Let's go, let's go, let's go!"

The handmaidens move; (Little Mary pulls Cassandra into the corner before leaving and asks if it was _really_ true that she and Rapunzel were just friends, that she wouldn't tell anyone if it were otherwise; Cassandra can't say anything but the truth). Cassandra is left alone with Mary and Virginia in the small kitchen.

"Thanks for the meal, girls. It was delicious. And— thanks for the company, too."

"Don’t worry about it, Cass— it was our pleasure," says Mary, smiling.

"Oh, how we miss you, Cass! _Argh,_ the staff got so boring without you," says Virginia.

Cassandra feels a warmth in her chest; how could she have forgotten all these people she left in Corona? The many people who think of Cassandra, and care about her; it is hard to understand it, sometimes.

☾

A few hours before the coronation begins, Cassandra and Rapunzel find each other in the corridors.

The palace is chaotic; servants move franticly around, arranging everything up to the smallest detail. Eugene and Astra are probably locked in their rooms, being dressed by the staff.

Cassandra simply walks down the halls a little nervous for some reason, watching the movement. Not realizing it, her legs lead her to Rapunzel's bedroom door, and there she is.

_"Cass."_

_"Oh—_ Hi, Raps."

Of all people, Cassandra remembers _Eugene,_ and her conversation with him at the bar. She softly kicks the ground and decides to be the first to say anything. "I—I wanted to see you before the coronation. I didn't want you to be coronated with… anything weird between us."

"Right— I owe you an apology, Cass," she says, intertwining her hands in front of her body. "I— I shouldn't have asked you for something like that. I should’ve understood that it would be a bad idea. I'm sorry, I'm so sorry. I feel like a child."

"It’s all right," says Cassandra.

Cassandra hates this tension that she has been feeling around Rapunzel lately. One must assume that it would be normal, after so many years apart; but she would prefer to return to the familiarity they had before—or even to complete enmity, rather than this limbo, this middle ground, this uncertainty.

"...Are you going to get ready now?"

"I will. And it will take twenty times longer than the coronation itself, you know how it is."

"Oh, that I know." Cassandra giggles. "...You don't look so nervous. Not as much as you were at your first coronation— at least, as far as I remember."

_"Oh,_ believe me, I'm just as nervous." She laughs. "I can just hide it better."

Cassandra's chest hurts, hurts and hurts; she wishes that looking at Rapunzel didn’t hurt this bad. She wants so desperately for her and Rapunzel to be good to each other.

"Good— good luck," Cass forces a smile. Rapunzel forces one back; she's always been good at that.

"Thank you. I'll need it."

☾

The streets of Corona are alive on coronation day. Everywhere you look, you can see lilacs and golds. Flags with the crest of the kingdom, people filling the downtown streets and blocking the passage, traditional music being played by bands, merchants setting up tents, couples dancing and children running in the city squares, a theater group staging a play about the coronian monarchy, prayer circles to the Sun.

Corona — especially the capital — always needed something to celebrate. Otherwise, the people would begin to notice the problems around them.

_At least celebrating is something they’re good at,_ is something Cassandra always heard foreigners say, during her travels. She always disagreed —she never liked the parties and happiness foreigners said were innate for the coronian people, but that always seemed, to her, too artificial.

But she used to enjoy the festival for the princess's birthday when she was a girl. Cassandra thought it was beautiful that the lanterns could one day guide the lost princess home.

And it's a beautiful day for a coronation, with the glow of the pink morning Sun in the sky and in the sea. The eternal beauty of sunny days in Corona.

"Cass, do you want a piece of pie?" Lance, next to Cassandra, takes a coin out of his pocket and gives it to the merchant.

"No, thanks."

"Man, nothing better than Corona's banana pie. How I missed it."

The city center is full; Cassandra pulls her hood in front of her face as low as possible. She knows that the chances of someone recognizing her are low: she hasn't been to Corona in twenty years, and she's changed considerably. Passing in front of a store with glass windows, she lands her gaze on her reflection; her hair is shorter, her face more marked, her clothes so differently from the black rock armor for which she became known in Corona at the time. Still—

"Cass," Lance seems to notice her restlessness, "why don't we go down to the pier, you know, that quieter part, while we wait for the coronation? You know, maybe watch the sea for a little while."

_Oh, Lance, you're an angel._ "Good idea, actually." He offers her a bite of pie, and she accepts. "In Koto, they make a good banana pie, too."

_"Uh-uh,_ that's not a pie. But it's good, yeah."

"It’s soft, and has a banana filling. That’s a pie to me."

"Cass, that’s a _cake._ You… _do_ know the difference, right?”

Cassandra shrugs. "Speaking of food, you've eaten that one-- that one fish, you know, with that sauce, in Ingvarr—? "

"The one with the sauce made with— I don’t even know what it is. But yeah, I have. _So_ _good..._ "

_"Fuck,_ I've never found a sauce like that anywhere. It's the thing I miss the most about that place."

"Since we’re talking about traveling experiences with food, have you ever visited northwest Neserdnia, where they make that thing with some kind of hallucinogenic herb?"

" _Yes!_ I had _no_ idea— I panicked so hard!"

“Haha _!_ Now, _that's_ a people who know how to party. Corona should take notes... Okay, Cass, now: have you ever been to Bayangor? "

"Uhum."

"Galcrest?"

"Yeah. So fucking cold."

"Have you gone overseas?"

"Of course."

"Arendelle?"

"Yes."

_"Moors?"_

Cassandra raises her eyebrows. "... You got me there."

“ _Ha!_ Let me tell you something, Cass, if you think you've seen everything, then you _haven't_ gone to Moors yet.”

The two are leaning over a wooden protective fence on the pier, watching the waves hit the shore below them. The singing of the seagulls overlaps with the noise of the crowd, very distantly, in the center of the city. "I've traveled for so long, and there's still so much of the world I haven't seen. What’s in Moors?”

"Some _fairies._ "

_"_ Yeah, right _."_

"You became the avatar of the _moon,_ Cassandra, literally the _moon, and_ you were able to _summon indestructible rocks from_ _the ground_ with the power of your mind, and you're telling me you don't believe in _fairies?_ "

"Would you believe _me_ if I were the one who told you?"

"Listen, I'm old, okay? Anything you tell me deserves the benefit of the doubt."

"Okay..." Cassandra thinks a little and already has some stories on the tip of her tongue. "... I’ve met the legendary Knight of The Sun, from Corona's stories, and he's a little bitch."

"I don't doubt it— famous men are _always_ assholes."

"Once, I was hit by a spear in the chest, and I survived."

"You can survive pretty much _anything,_ Cass, with a little willpower. And by the way, you—haven’t you died once, and were resurrected—? Tough to kill you, huh?"

"Well, _Eugene's_ been resurrected, too. I don't think that it’s impressive anymore."

“Haha _._ Good point. Go on, please."

"...I've been arrested. _Twice_."

"Girl, I’ve been arrested more times than that. You're not special."

Cassandra rolls her eyes. _"Okay—_ I had an affair with the Queen of Arendelle."

" _Whoa!_ Damn! Okay, you're hot, Cass, I would never doubt it." He swallows the last bit of his pie. "But— the Queen of _Arendelle?_ How?!"

She shrugs. "Traveling like this, you tend to meet people. And occasionally, these people are royalty."

"Oh, how I _miss_ the romances, during my times on the road... Men and women could _not_ get enough of young Lance."

Cassandra giggles. Lance's good at making you feel comfortable. She almost forgets Rapunzel's coronation for a moment and the danger she is in, in Corona's capital.

"Thanks for bringing me here, Lance."

Lance smiles, and seems to make an effort to understand Cassandra, a little bit, maybe more than other people. “Don’t mention it. That's what I'm here for."

☾

With a hood over her head, Cassandra gathers her courage and crosses through the crowd in front of the castle. Lance is right behind following her, but it's hard to move among all those agitated people, looking up.

A trumpet announces the arrival of the prince and princess. When Cassandra finally arrives at a point close enough, she looks up, too, to the tall, beautiful front balcony of the palace, and, illuminated by the afternoon light, there is—

There is Rapunzel: twenty years later, standing high and elegantly in front of all the people of Corona, smiling like the Sun, older and changed; there's Rapunzel (is she even Cassandra's Rapunzel, still? Would Cassandra recognize her with a queen's crown on her head? Would they be looking for someone else in each other, someone who is not there anymore?).

She wears a long, wide, and intricate lilac dress, with puffy sleeves and filled with lace, more beautiful than anything she's ever worn (more beautiful, even, than her wedding dress, Cassandra dares to guess, though she's never seen it). Her feet, bare (oh how it is good to know that at least certain things remain the same). Her hair loose, her head adorned with braids and flowers, the brunette strands all flying in the breeze, and it is a different kind of glow from the glow of her old blonde hair, but it is still like the dawn light.

Rapunzel, Eugene and all the rest of Corona hold their breath and listen to a long speech from the cleric; the couple then kneels to receive the crown. But Cassandra only has eyes for Rapunzel, and hears nothing, sees nothing else: a hypnosis, looking at that woman who was once a girl, who was her best friend, and is today a queen (somewhere inside this queen is the girl cassandra loved deeply and resented twice as much).

When Rapunzel receives the crown, the Lost Princess who is now the Found Queen, the crowd explodes in celebrations; Cassandra is standing, static, in the middle of the sea of people in a kind of fascination, or unbelief: Rapunzel with a crown on her head. Rapunzel twenty years later. Rapunzel, with a kingdom on her shoulders. Rapunzel, with flowers in her braids. Rapunzel, smiling wide. Rapunzel, whom Cassandra loved, and still loves a little bit. Rapunzel, who ate her young heart. Rapunzel, Rapunzel, let down your hair...

And the queen could never find Cassandra in the enormous crowd, but it seems for a moment that she is trying; it does, for a moment, but maybe it is just her imagination.

☾

As per custom, there is a ball after the coronation; Cassandra plans to show up briefly (because she always hated this kind of thing) but ends up staying longer, talking to Lance and her father. Eugene and Rapunzel are the center of all the attention, of course; she barely got to talk to either of them all night.

"What's it like to see Corona again, Dad?"

He huffs. "The bad parts are still bad. But it's good, too, to see some people again. I missed the city, despite everything."

Cassandra laughs, and takes a sip from her champagne. "Me too."

"Did you get to do everything you wanted, honey?"

"I think so." Except, perhaps, settle things with Rapunzel; but would that even be possible? She's not sure anymore.

At the peak of the night, Rapunzel and Eugene dance in the center of the hall. The music is delicious in the ears, and Cassandra almost manages to put her anxiety aside a little and enjoy the ball.

_"Cass!"_ Rapunzel runs to her after dancing with the King. "Mr. Elias! Are you two enjoying the ball?"

Both bow briefly to the queen.

"Excellent, of course, Your Majesty."

"It's really good, Raps, "

"Please, you don't have to be so formal!" She seems more excited now than the last three whole days Cassandra's been to Corona, which makes her a little excited, too. Rapunzel's joy has always been contagious. "Cass. I know you don't like dancing very much—I don't know if that's changed in the last twenty years, but—" she offers her hand, all adorned with rings and precious stones, and smiles so beautifully; "Would you grant me this dance?"

And, well, how could Cassandra refuse? The Moon, outside, sings a story in the rhythm of the music.

They dance in the center of the hall. Cassandra feels dozens and dozens of eyes looking at her, but ignores them; she has had to go through much worse situations. Instead of worrying about anything else, she looks at Rapunzel, and feels young again; as if she had not even been crowned queen; as if Rapunzel were a simple woman, dancing in her arms. Rapunzel's dress is so wide, but they get as close as possible, press their bodies together — Rapunzel holds Cassandra's back, holds her arm, holds the fabric of her dark-blue suit; Cassandra holds Rapunzel's waist, and it is so familiar, that touch, and a little electric (she feels as a teenager—!); Rapunzel's face so close, and Cassandra observes how she aged, fondly, and they spin, spin, spin—

☾

At the end of the ball, the night already tinged by the dark of before the dawn, Rapunzel does not go to sleep next to Eugene in his room; instead, she follows Cassandra to hers to say goodnight.

They stop at the door.

"How are you feeling, Your Majesty?"

Rapunzel laughs, jovial. "As if nothing changed."

The silence of the corridors of the castle, at that time of night, lands heavy on them; they speak low, and it feels like they are the only two people in the whole world. Cassandra removes her cloak. "Well, I hope you enjoyed my company."

"Of _course_ I've enjoyed it, Cass." She approaches. "Always."

Rapunzel looks at her and looks at her; then she takes Cassandra’s right hand in hers. She seems to want to take off her glove, and Cassandra freezes.

"...Can I...?"

For whatever reason, Cassandra nods.

Cassandra thinks Rapunzel was never as kind to her as she is at that moment, taking the glove out of her hand; slowly, as if the slightest carelessness could cause Cassandra to disintegrate in front of her eyes. When she removes the glove, the dead hand is revealed —Rapunzel's creation, the mark Cassandra will carry forever, until the rest of her body decomposes, too, and the arm’s state becomes indistinguishable from her other limbs; until Cassandra is consumed and swallowed by the earth, until she is nothing but bones, nothing but a vague memory that the Moon will hear from the ground and whisper back into the ocean.

Rapunzel strokes this hand with her thumbs, so affectionately, and looks at the darkened and rotten skin and skeletal fingers and as if they were something that belonged to her as much as it belongs to Cassandra (a thing that may be true). Then she brings the hand to her lips and kisses it’s knuckles once, twice, thrice, gently.

Cassandra cannot stand it; her face reddens, and she has to look away. _"Raps..."_

 _"Cass,"_ she mutters, puts one hand on Cassandra’s cheek and caresses her face.

The reunion of the Sun and the Moon does not lead to the end of the world, just a fresh start: when they kiss, the feeling cassandra has in her stomach is that that is something that could very well have happened thousands of times before, but it did not; it's almost as if, if she searched deep enough in her brain, she could find the exact sensation of Rapunzel's lips, or the way she puts her hands on Cassandra’s body—but she, of course, would not be able to find anything. Kissing her is different from kissing any other woman. It is like remembering a dear old memory and turning it into something completely new. It is easy, too; it’s tender and lovely, but nothing like she imagined it would be, twenty years ago (she imagined it would be a great event, an explosion to match her feelings. Now it is a kind of relief.) But of course; the kiss has an aftertaste, and it turns out that Cassandra feels a bit of an urge to cry (ah, if she were young, she would truly cry, and her salty tears would wet their faces and fall on the encounter of their lips). That is why Cassandra pulls away. She hopes Rapunzel understands that they cannot do it again.

When she contemplates Rapunzel after, Cassandra sees her as she is: a woman entangled in the deepness of her prisons, and a girl whose love is twice as deep. (Maybe she and Cassandra are not that different after all, with their longing; maybe it is the same for every woman). Rapunzel’s green eyes stuck in Cassandra’s, as if looking for something — then they lower to the ground once she’s understood what she’s done. "I'm sorry," and she sounds just a little bit remorseful.

If Cassandra were younger, maybe she'd be upset. Maybe she'd be infuriated. But she is not. "It’s all right," she says, because it really is. It's all right, it’s all right.

The queen — her best friend — holds Cassandra's right hand between hers and takes it to her lips again, closes her eyes hard. When she re-opened them, she seems ready to say naked and sincere things (Cassandra has hardly ever seen that look in young Rapunzel in the past; not directed at her, at least). "Cass. Cass, look at me."

She looks.

"If— if you will allow me, my dear, to say this without any condescension or pride, and truthfully, I will say it to you: I _love you_ , Cass. I tell you this with the knowledge that I've hurt you more than trivial statements like these can fix, with the knowledge that I don't deserve an answer. All these years we spent apart, I took care of this love mindfully, watered it every day, and it flourished— My beloved: I think I would love you even if we never saw each other again."

Of all the words that exist, those are the saddest ones she could have ever said. They are, truly, the saddest; what a cruel thing, loving Cassandra; what a cruel thing, her loving Rapunzel.

"And," she brings Cassandra to bed by the hands, sits them both down next to each other, and continues; "let me tell you; I asked you to come back, because I'm sick of missing you, my dear; for I can't bear to live knowing that I have chased you away from me, with the ignorance of my youth. Did you love me back then? I think you did— but— oh, how we are always _late_ for each other _!_ And I dream of you, Cassandra, I've been dreaming of you so much, more and more, over time—" She holds Cassandra's hand even tighter and looks her in the eye in that way she does when she's about to promise something she might not be able to give, just like she used to when she was young and was still naïve enough to promise anything; "What I asked of you last night was no nostalgia, or youthful fantasy, or charity; Maybe it was selfish, I admit it, but I can't help it. I don't care if you don't love me that way anymore, or if you never loved me at all; I don't need anything _back— Cass,_ I have to ask you again— with no intention in my heart, I swear, beyond the purest and simplest longing— one last time, then I will be forever silent: come back to Corona."

Cassandra would think, in the past, when she still believed in fate, that they must be destined to be late for each other’s feelings forever. "My love— I can't come back."

Rapunzel's expression is full of regrets. "I'm sorry I pressed you so, Cass, until there was no more fixing us. I'm sorry— I was so _blind_ — I failed you, my dear, and I miss you...! I promise this— this is how I will make it up to you; by forever loving you too late."

 _No, no, no—_ Rapunzel got it wrong; Cassandra just wants to be good to Rapunzel, she just wants them to be good to each other— she prays to the Moon, so they can stop hurting, please—

"I don't want you to be unhappy, Rapunzel, my dear— I just want you to finally understand me, and be able to let me go, like you didn’t in the past (maybe all certain things need is time, like a bud that blooms and sees the world with new eyes,) that's all I wish for; no sacrifice, or whims. I just want to be heard.

"Please, Cass, say it then, and I'll listen."

"Rapunzel— I— I—" she remains holding her hand but lowers her gaze to her lap as if she were still young. She decides; there is nothing left to hide. "Please listen to me. My... My whole life, I've waited for something to happen. I searched for things; in my father's stories, in the adventure books, in the royal guard—and then you arrived, and— for a moment, I thought it was you, what I've been waiting for all along."

Cassandra feels twenty-two gain, opening her own abdomen, taking off and exposing her own intestines. "But when I realized that maybe it wasn't you—you never had eyes for me, Rapunzel. No— it's not your fault, please don't look at me like that— but I think that's when I realized that I’d had to get up and look for what I want, instead of sitting around waiting... So I went, and I looked, and for all these years in all my travels and everywhere I lived, that’s what I’ve been doing— and I'm not sure if I’ve found it or not— the moonstone left me with a hole in my chest, and I dream of _you,_ too, Rapunzel. Even on days when I don't even think about you at all, in my dreams I see you, I dream of the Sun, I dream of being a bird with you and flying free through the sky. And I wake up, and I write you a letter. The older I get, the more I realize that— I'm not like you, Rapunzel; I wasn't born with a great role to fulfill. But _looking_ for this role has been the greatest pleasure of my life, and I've known all kinds of places, all kinds of people—I fell in love once or twice, and—"

Her next words run from Cassandra's mouth as if they were always there, ready to be formed all this time. More than twenty years with them stuck in her throat, and it is this how they get out; like a blink of an eye, like a breath or a sigh. "Raps, I loved you. I loved you, and it was _disastrous— I_ still love you, I think; I don't think I've even stopped loving you. I just think I love you now in a different way than I loved you before; I love you not as a poet loves his muse, but as the Moon loves the Sun—when I am far from you, your presence is in the corner of my eye, and I know that in spite of everything I remember you fondly, with a bittersweet ardor in my chest, and— and I could never say that we _belong together_ because fate does _not exist,_ but—

 _"Rapunzel,"_ Cassandra takes the queen’s face between her hands, "I love you, I love you, but I can't give you what you want. We live lives far too different, and Corona is no longer my home; I have homes elsewhere. But I carry you _here,_ " she closes her fist in her chest, right on top of the scar of the moonstone; Rapunzel sheds tears that seem to have been long kept away, the way adults sometimes keep them, "and I, like you, took care of my love in my chest for all these years and tried to drain from it everything that was bitter and bad, and I now remember you as a flower in my memory."

Cassandra does everything she can; holds Rapunzel's shoulders, arms, face and hands, all she can to make her hear and understand.

"Dear— I'll stay with you and comfort you as much as you need. I'll come visit whenever I can, I'll send you new letters, the most beautiful ones you've ever received — even more beautiful than the others I've sent—and I want you to be happy here, because I know I can't be. And I know you're going to be an amazing queen. I promise, however; if you ever need to run, I'll come and get you out of this castle and take you anywhere you want. _But,"_ and here Cassandra starts crying, too, "I can't stay forever—I can't let go of everything I have for you again. Rapunzel, think of our past conflicts and our distance not as a tragedy, but as proof that I remain alive and _happy,_ despite it, and that despite everything, I still love you."

A weight in Cassandra's heart seems to immediately dissolve, leaving only an insistent ardor; an ardor that seems to _say I now have at last what little Cassandra did not have before._ Rapunzel sighs through tears as if her own weight had also dissolved. She hugs her hard, her face on Cassandra's neck, and she whispers in her ear, half laughing, half sobbing:

"I'm so old now, but I still want to hold everything dear I have in my hands. But I hear you, Cass—I hear you, and I will let you go. I’m sorry, my dear, I’m so sorry…"

"Thank you, Raps. And please— no more apologizing. It’s okay."

They lie in Cassandra's bed and stay there for a long time. Despite being dressed, Cassandra feels naked, and her eyes weigh—

"Eugene," she mutters, as she accidentally puts her fingers over the wedding ring in Rapunzel's hand, "won't he mind?"

"No— I talked to him," Rapunzel mutters back.

What that means, Cassandra does not know, and does not question (she's so comfortable...)

This is how goes on the night, in a tangle of their embrace; Rapunzel massaging Cassandra's curls, finding scars on her body, and they do not kiss again, or touch each other much more than that. The two talk about some things, half of them probably silly, and they will all be left there forever, in that one night, to be forgotten. Rapunzel's whispers so delicate in Cassandra's ears, so soft, that it almost seems like she's not saying anything; the moonlight through the window. Cassandra falls into a quiet, tired sleep, as if she had not slept in a million years, and dreams of nothing at all.

☾

The singing of the morning birds awakens Cassandra gently. It takes time to remember where she is; but she remembers the birds she used to hear every morning.

Rapunzel's perfume all over her bed, and her weight on the other side of the mattress. Fingers on her nape — turning on the sheets, Cassandra finds the other woman's face. _"Hi,"_ Rapunzel says.

_"Hi,"_ Cassandra replies, still sleepy.

"I'm sorry if I woke you up."

"No— it wasn't you."

"I was looking at that scar on your neck."

"Ah— it goes down a little to my back. Scary, isn't it?"

" _Uhum._ What's the story?"

" _Hmm.._ A pretty stupid thing," she's even a little embarrassed to tell the story, "I-I was traveling with a group of friends, doing a job— I was on watch at camp, but I was sleepy, and so _tired_ that I had to lie down— but I hadn't seen some debris behind me, I don't know what it was, a _loose nail,_ a _hook,_ or something, I don't know; and when my body fell backwards, well—"

Rapunzel cringes in empathy. "Cass, that was _pretty_ careless."

"I know... I'm usually not like that, you know that."

"I know," she says. Then she points to a scar on her nose, "what about this one?"

"It was a sword," she replies.

"No elaboration?"

"There's not much to elaborate."

_"Um."_ she lands her fingertip on Cassandra's lower lip, "this one?"

"I think it was a sword, too. In an invasion of a pirate ship."

Rapunzel raises her eyebrows, "Have you been invaded by a pirate ship? That’s a story you should have told me, Cass."

"Actually, I-I never told you much about it because _I_ was the pirate invading a ship, Raps."

_"What?_ You’re messing with me."

"I'm not!" Cassandra laughs. "I traveled with a pirate crew for a while.

"And you _broke the law in_ the process, Cass!"

"Raps, I've broken the law many times. I'm sorry for ruining young Cassandra's reputation."

Rapunzel laughs (Cassandra can never hear enough of that laugh), "Cass, you have been exiled from Corona. With all due respect, young Cassandra no longer has a _great_ reputation of following the law."

Cassandra laughs, too. "Exactly, that's when my decadence began. You shouldn't be surprised...!"

"Who was the captain?"

"From my ship, or from the other one?"

"Both of them, I guess."

"I don't remember who the captain of the other ship was—but it was some very rich merchant ship; believe me, Raps, when I say that the invasion has not done much harm to anyone but idiot nobles."

"Most of my allies today are idiot nobles, Cass, unfortunately."

"Well— I'm sorry, my queen, but I don't regret it. And— _my_ captain _,_ well— you're not going to like the answer."

Rapunzel frowns for a second, thinking, and then seems to remember something. "No _way,_ Cass, it can’t have been her—"

"I'm _sorry_ —!"

_"Caine?!"_

"Look, she's cool, okay."

"She tried _to kidnap_ my father, Cass."

"Yeah, but she's fun...! _Unbearable, and_ arrogant, _and_ inconsequential— but _fun._ "

_"God,_ Cass; I'm glad you've made so many good friends on your journeys."

"It wasn't my peak on the friendship area, I have to admit— in my defense, I was trying to _capture_ her at first. It's a long story."

“Now you’ll tell me you’ve encountered _Stalyan,_ too.

“…Well…”

“ _Oh_ my _god_!” Rapunzel playfully pushes Cassandra’s shoulder. “ _Please_ , don’t tell me— I’m not sure I want to know.”

Cassandra chuckles. “All right.”

"I’m sure you have—" Rapunzel hesitates, for a second, "I'm sure you've had many lovers. Am I right?"

"…Do you think I've had many lovers?"

"Of course. _You're beautiful;_ what woman wouldn't want you?"

With warm cheeks, Cassandra laughs, "I've had some. No absurd numbers; I'm not a book hero. What about _you?"_

_"Me?"_

"Eugene told me that you— I mean, unless I misinterpreted it..."

_"Right,"_ she seems a little embarrassed, "we... we get involved, yes, with other people. But there's so little we can do — surely you must imagine, since we are royalty, it's complicated. It was a few times—just little things. I still love him with all my heart."

It is still just a little bit painful for Cassandra, when Rapunzel talks about Eugene with those eyes— but she seems to think of him less with the passion of the past, and more with a pure love and affection. "Well, apparently, you've managed to avoid scandals so far."

_"Oh, please!_ I think I must be one of the most scandalous queens in corona's history. It started with the insistence on not wearing shoes."

_"Ha—!_ Can you even _imagine_ how _scandalous_ it would be if they found the newly crowned queen of Corona in bed with another woman?"

"Don't _even_ remind me" she smiles, playful; "but don't worry; my staff knows how to keep secrets."

"I wouldn't count on that, Raps. _I_ used to be on this staff, and if I told you the kind of gossip I used to run around the castle..."

_"Oh, by the way_ , I've been hearing a lot of talk about _you,_ Cass, among the servants. _Good_ talk _s,_ about your adventures." She pokes Cassandra's shoulder with her finger. "Enjoying the attention?"

"A little... I can't lie. But I prefer to tell these stories myself."

Rapunzel raises his eyebrows. "I have reasons to suspect it was you yourself who spread tales about the incredible _Cassandra the pilgrim_ across the continent."

_"God,_ you're making me sound like Eugene, with his _Flynn Rider_ nonsenses _."_

"I would never make that comparison. I'm sure your stories are much more real than his."

"Stories like the one of sea serpents?"

"Precisely that one." The two smile so much; Cassandra's cheeks hurt.

Rapunzel makes her fingers walk down Cassandra's face, feeling every corner of her it, every change. "Do you have any scars," she hesitates, "of when you carried the moonstone?"

"I have some. The stone armor was never very kind on my body."

Rapunzel writhes, visibly, with remorse. "And you still— your power, it's completely gone, right?"

"Yes," says Cassandra, though she still has her doubts.

"Have you ever missed them?"

That's a good question. "... Sometimes. But I think I miss less the powers, and more the presence of the Moon, palpable in my chest." She instinctively puts her hand over her heart, where the opal used to be. "I still—" (and that's something Cassandra never told anyone, not even her father), "I still hear the Moon sometimes. She sings to me, whispers things to me. It's not all bad— sometimes it's almost a comforting, like having a company; of course, other times she brings me things I'd rather forget. And fevers..."

Rapunzel does not say anything.

"And the Sun— has she ever— spoken to you after _you_ lost your powers?"

"I think— I think so, maybe? But I don't think she talks to me the way the Moon talks to you."

"It makes sense. In my travels, I discovered that each of the world's powers often has its own language."

Rapunzel's eyes stare at Cassandra in a strange way, as if the other woman were saying meaningless things, or things too far away for her to understand. She sighs, and strokes Cassandra's face with her hand. "I feel like there's so much of you that I've missed on in these twenty years."

Cassandra, in turn, puts her own hand over Rapunzel's hand. "It's hard to talk only by letters, isn't it?"

"Nothing like talking to you face to face and being able to _touch you."_ Another sigh. "Tell me a story, Cass."

"What do you want to hear?"

"Anything."

So Cassandra tells her a story.

☾

Before they finally get out of bed to start the day, Cassandra must say:

"Raps— I'm going to have to leave soon."

"Soon?"

"In a few days. It's a long journey; my father and I need to get home before winter."

"... Can't you stay a little longer?"

"No... I'm sorry,"

Rapunzel smiles a melancholy smile, and the question she asks afterwards, Cassandra knows that she made it without any real intention; "Not even if I ordered you to stay, my love? Me, who am now a queen?"

Cassandra responds to her in an equally delicate and sad tone; "Not even so— you're no longer my queen, my dear." She kisses, however, Rapunzel's hand as she says this.

☾

The departure from Corona is light in Cassandra's heart; the longing she feels for her home in the distant village now walking hand in hand with the remaining affection for her homeland. Cassandra says goodbye to everyone who deserves a goodbye, including the castle beach, and her old quarters. (It is kind, the farewell, if not a little painful, as every farewell tends to be).

It is easier than the last time she left Corona, when she wasn't sure she would ever come back. It's good to be able to turn her back to the city and know that it’ll still be there for her to go back to.

"You know I meant it, right? About coming to your aid, if you ever want to run away," Cassandra says.

"I know," says Rapunzel, as she accompanies her out.

Cassandra just nods.

"Have a safe journey. Take care, please." At the castle door, Rapunzel hugs Cassandra tightly. Then she kisses her on the forehead. "Come visit soon, won't you?" That's all her question is; a question, not a demand.

"Of course," Cassandra replies earnestly.

She and her father put the wagon on the road. It is morning, and the Sun shines, newly awakened; the Moon is asleep, but Cassandra can still hear her music, distant, in her ears.

For the third (but not for the last time), Cassandra leaves Corona.

**Author's Note:**

> _I will love you if I never see you again, and I will love you if I see you every Tuesday. (...) I will love you as we find ourselves farther and farther from one another, where once we were so close... I will love you until your face is fogged by distant memory. I will love you no matter where you go and who you see, I will love you if you don't marry me. I will love you if you marry someone else--and i will love you if you never marry at all, and spend your years wishing you had married me after all. That is how I will love you even as the world goes on its wicked way._
> 
> (excerpt from "The Beatrice Letters" by Lemmony Snicket)  
> 
> 
> thank you sm for reading !! comments are always appreciated =)


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